Sucker Punch
by x.MyrtenasterRose.x
Summary: It was supposed to be easy. Graduate, move to a different city, box, and make a name for myself. It wasn't supposed to amount to this. I wasn't supposed to stumble upon the enigma that was Elsa Arendelle, perhaps the world's greatest boxer. I wasn't supposed to uncover her deep, dark secret. I wasn't supposed to fall in love. But I did. [mAU. Boxer!Anna. Trainer!Elsa. Elsanna]
1. Prologue: Never Easy

**I was **_**not**_** expecting this to come out just a few hours after A Never Ending Note's update, but here it is anyway. Oh, well; that's a good thing right? Means I'm back in the game?**

**Anyway, quite a few people to thank here. First, thanks to Walking-After on DeviantArt for letting me use the picture that inspired this story as its cover art! You're an amazing artist!**

**Then there's icest-in-arendelle on Instagram for posting this picture in the first place and wanting a fan fic of it. Also, thanks for letting me brainstorm the plot with you and helping me come up with a title! I dedicate this story to you! (And queenelsa_roleplay, also on Instagram.)**

**So anyway, yadda, yadda, yadda, typical introduction stuff…**

**Two more things: ANEN will continue to be updated alongside Sucker Punch. Hopefully, both will have chapters out at the same time like today. I shall try my best. Also, this story will be from Anna's POV. I may switch to Elsa depending on the demand for her, but I think her whole "secret" thing will be more interesting from Anna's side.**

**Okay, that's over; thanks for reading this if you did.**

**And please review! :)**

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><p>.:Sucker Punch:.<p>

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><p><strong>Prologue: Never Easy<strong>

It was supposed to be easy. Graduate, move to a different city, box, and make a name for myself. It wasn't supposed to amount to this. I wasn't supposed to stumble upon the intriguing enigma that was Elsa Arendelle, perhaps _the_ world's best female boxer. I wasn't supposed to latch onto her like some pathetic, lost puppy. My interest wasn't supposed to evolve to lust, and why the _fuck_ did I have to fall in love with her? Lusting over _the _boxing goddess wasn't enough? I had to go _fall in love_?

Typical me, honestly. Brilliant, Anna, truly brilliant. Ten points to Gryffindor.

Sorry; Harry Potter reference.

Where was I? Oh, yeah.

The whole love thing wasn't enough either, apparently, as I also had to go and uncover her deep, dark secret that had the entire boxing scene's—media, fans, and fellow boxers alike—panties in a twist.

It wasn't even like she made all of this easy for me. I had to fight like _hell_ just to get the first hello out of her. After that, it wasn't all rainbows and sunshine either. In fact, it was more like trudging through the fiery pits of Hell with Satan himself riding on your shoulders and ridiculing you for every little misstep.

Yes, it was really that bad.

Yes, I suppose I _do_ have an interesting way of explaining things; just go ask Elsa.

When and why did my life get so complicated? I was just your average eighteen year-old, fresh out of high school; it wasn't like I went _asking_ for all of this.

Okay, so maybe I did. I already told you she fascinated me from the first night I laid eyes on her, and once I'm hooked on something, boy is it hard for me to…well, let's just say "un-hook."

Okay, so maybe I did drag Elsa kicking and screaming through all of this, but I have to say now I think it turned out for the best. She may not think so, and god knows she'd keep her vocalization of it suppressed and take it with her to the grave, but I'm in charge here and I say it did turn out well.

So, this is me in a weird-sort-of-nutshell. Anna Summers, up-and-coming boxing star at your service; Kentucky native and now-New York resident. And yes, Kentucky does have boxing; we did give you Muhammad Ali, after all. _Sheesh_.

Anyway, I suppose you can thank Mr Ali for getting me into boxing in the first place. My dad wasn't a boxer, but he sure did have a lot of Muhammad Ali's fights taped. My best-friend-basically-older-brother Kristoff and I stumbled across them one day when we were kids and I was hooked instantly. I had always been a rambunctious little kid, so when I saw _people punching other people _as a sport, needless to say, I was enthralled. And I told you earlier with Elsa about how I get once I'm hooked on something.

So later that day, Kristoff and I were out in my yard playing, when I started trying to be Mr Ali himself and show off some of my killer moves. Kristoff, being the best guy there is, bravely let me try out my skills on him. It was silly and fun for a bit as the guy's a bear of a man with a build that could keep him unharmed from anything, but when I landed a punch to his chest that had him doubled over in pain, we called it quits.

I was worried about him the rest of the day—I mean, I had just hurt my best friend! My illegitimate older brother! But when we both discovered the bruise the next day, I couldn't help but feel immensely proud of myself. I had been only seven at the time; Kristoff was eleven. My tiny, child, girl fists had punched the older boy hard enough to leave a mark; and this was a kid who played soccer all through middle school and was used to taking hits—he would later go on to play ice hockey, but that's unimportant right now.

I had boxing in my blood, I determined that day, and it was only thanks to Mr Muhammad Ali that I figured that out—okay, so it was thanks to my dad, too, since he had the tapes in the first place.

So now you know how I got into boxing; now all that's left to do is explain how Elsa got all mixed up in this, and that's easier said than done. It's quite the story.

But it's her story as well. It's the story of how I helped bring the ex-star back into the light and how I helped her overcome her fear and hate of her secret. It's the story about how she learned to let others in again. It's the story about how she learned to love again.

This story is about both of us, which makes it our story; and that fact alone is enough for me to cherish this story like I would my own child.

But anyway, enough with my rambling, I should just get on with it; it's what you all came here for, right?

Well, fasten your seatbelts, because here we go…


	2. Chapter 1: Lights Up

**So, after a week and a day, the story finally begins! Prepare yourselves!**

**I also promise the chapters will get longer. Starting out is always kind of rough.**

**And, wow, over 70 follows for the **_**prologue**_**?! You guys rock. Keep up the awesomeness. **

**I don't own Frozen.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Lights Up<strong>

"There!" I exclaim with a huff, as the last box of my belongings is set on the floor. "That should be the last one."

"You sure?" Kristoff asks. "I feel like we've been doing this for hours."

I roll my eyes at him. Typical Kristoff, really; always complaining about something.

"That's 'cause we _have_ been doing this for hours," I tell him.

"And whose fault is that?" he questions sarcastically.

A pause.

"Uh, _ow!_"

He totally deserved that hit to his shin. Grinning triumphantly, I address him, "You didn't _have _to help me move in, you know."

He just sends me his trademark cocky grin and retorts, "Well, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't offer to help my girl move in?"

"Then stop complaining!"

"You know you love it," he gushes, making a point to muss my hair.

"Only 'cause I love you," I reply while laughing and trying to free myself from his big bear-hands. "Would you quit it?!"

"You know you love it," Kristoff repeats.

"Well, my hair doesn't, so stop it," I retort. "Do you really want to overstay your welcome on your _first _visit? I haven't even been in New York for a full 24 hours and you're already annoying me."

Kristoff crosses his arms and smiles smugly at me.

"That's what you get when you have me as a best friend," he explains simply.

Kristoff Bjorgman, ladies and gentlemen.

Honestly, I surprise myself sometimes with how much crap of his I put up with. Like how he always smells like his dog—a Rottweiler who is an even _bigger_ oaf than Kristoff—or how he proudly flaunts the fact that he _picks his nose and eats it_. I mean, really? What are you, Kristoff, five?

Granted, I've never seen him actually do it, thank god, but it seems like such a random thing to joke about _all the time_ that I've really just come to accept it. As long as he doesn't do it around me? Eh, live and let live, I say.

Okay, so wow… That just got _way_ off topic. I already mentioned the fact that I ramble, right? Exhibit A; take note.

Anyway, I had just moved to New York that day. Like literally, my plane had landed first thing in the morning, Kristoff had met me at the airport, we met the moving truck here at my new apartment, and here we are now. A fresh start for a girl fresh out of high school. I was excited to move to the Big Apple; excited to start the next chapter of my life in a completely different environment. Growing up in Louisville, Kentucky, you get a hint at city life, but I'm sure Downtown Louisville is _nothing_ compared to Manhattan.

I would later come to learn that I couldn't have been more right in my assumption. But we'll get to that shortly.

"So," Kristoff starts with a huff, plopping down on my newly purchased couch. "Want me to stay and help unpack?"

Opening a box at random, I turn to him. "Are you really offering, or are you just saying that to be nice?"

"Bit of both; mostly the latter," he replies.

I roll my eyes again. "Figures."

"I mean, you do have _a lot_ to unpack; it will probably take you the rest of the afternoon."

"I don't plan to do this all at once, silly," I tell him. "I do want to spend some time exploring the city before it gets too dark."

"Then just unpack the essentials and let's get out of here," Kristoff all but orders me. "I'm bored."

I huff and throw the freshly unpacked TV remote at his head.

"Then do me a favor and hook up the cable so you can watch TV," I offer.

"Yes, Your Highness."

This time, it is my PS4 controller that finds purchase atop his thick skull.

"_Hey!_" he shouts.

"Hook that up while you're at it," I say without looking at him.

"Whatever you say, Your Grace."

"Kristoff, shut up."

XxXxX

So after another hour of unpacking and banter with Kristoff—seriously, that's quality friendship right there, guys—we set out so Kristoff could at least start the grand tour of the city. It would obviously take a few days—and knowing me, probably weeks—for me to know my way around, but hey, like I said, it was a start.

We gave my new subway pass a test run and wound up at a burger joint in Brooklyn. Kristoff had told me that, if anything, come to Brooklyn for this place. Apparently they had the best burgers in the whole city.

He wasn't lying.

"Holy shit, Kristoff, this thing is amazing!" I cry out after taking just my first bite. "I mean, I can literally _feel_ my arteries clogging!"

The blond chuckles and says, "I know, right? Isn't it amazing?"

I nod and agree. "_So_ amazing."

I take another bite of my double cheeseburger with bacon topped with onion, tomato, lettuce and ketchup as Kristoff takes a sip of his drink.

"So, you planning on entering the annual boxing tournament the city throws?" he asks me next.

"Of course!" I boast, puffing my chest out in pride. "It is why I moved here, after all. Although I don't know how good I'll be after I demolish a couple of these bad boys." I wave my burger around for emphasis.

"That's true," he concedes. "Physique is important in your field."

"Yours too," I tell him, referring to his playing ice hockey. "I mean, yeah, you guys are allowed to be big—in fact, it's encouraged—but there's a difference between big and fit, and big and…well, _big_." I reach across the table and poke at his belly fat.

"Hey!" he exclaims with a chuckle. "That's just my food baby!"

"_Food baby_?" I chide. "Really, Kristoff?"

He just scoffs and takes another bite of his own monstrosity of calories and grease.

"Whatever, I'll just work it all off tomorrow," he mumbles, his mouth full.

"Speaking of which," I speak up. "What's the best gym to go to closest to my place? Preferably one I can run to and from."

Kristoff shrugs. "There's several. One's actually right at the end of your block. The one I go to is all the way on the other end of Central Park from where you live, though."

I match his shrug with my own. "Can I run there and back?"

"You can, and knowing you, you will."

"Then I choose that one," I state with confidence.

"You do know that Central Park is, like, huge, right?"

"All the more reason for me to include it in my training!"

The big lug just shrugs once more. "Whatever you say, girl."

XxXxX

The next day, I wake up early to find my way to the gym Kristoff and I had been talking about yesterday and register. I didn't plan to run today, as I honestly had no idea where I was going. I was simply going to explore the park, take note of what would be the quickest route across from my place to the gym, and come back home. After registering at the gym, too, of course.

There was an entrance to Central Park right across the street from my apartment building. It was amazing really. I lived up on the seventh floor which gave me a great view of the entire park. You could see across its entire expanse, and from seven stories up, the park didn't honestly look that big. I knew on the ground, however, that would probably be a different story entirely.

I was right.

_I swear I've passed this tree, like, three times,_ I grumble internally to myself as I walk down one of the park's many paths.

I was beginning to regret not having Kristoff tag along. Surely by now he knew the park like the back of his hand. He had been living here for two years now; it would be kind of weird if he didn't.

Eventually, like two hours later, I find my way out of the park, and I am pleasantly surprised when I realize I came out only a few blocks away from where I intended. Beginner's luck, huh?

Tracking down the gym goes by without a hitch, and in no time I'm standing before a large two-story building. I grin. Call me weird, but gyms always got me excited. I loved them. I loved going and working out; I loved all the different machinery and ways to stay fit; I loved the pain you felt the morning after; I loved everything about it.

I pull open the double doors and couldn't help but grin as the familiar scent of rubber, Clorox, sweat and…chlorine?—they had a pool, cool!—fill my nose. Gross, right? Nope, I loved it.

I almost skip up to the front desk where this hulk of a man is sitting, perusing the _New York Times_.

"Hi!" I chirp as I come to a halt.

He looks up casually, but upon seeing me standing there and not just shouting at him in passing, he smiles and puts the paper down.

"Hey there," he greets.

"I'd like to get a membership, please," I say. "I just moved here yesterday and my friend recommended this gym to me."

The man's smile widens imperceptibly. "Well then; tell your friend thanks, okay?"

I nod. "I will!"

He spins around in his chair and gathers a few pieces of paper before turning back around. Putting all the papers on a clipboard, he hands me it along with a pen.

"Fill all this out, please," he says.

I nod and scoot down the desk a bit in case someone else comes in. The forms were your typical kind of documents: your name, address, what kind of membership you wanted, etcetera. The other two sheets listed all that the gym offered like classes and equipment while the second had a map.

Handing the first form back to the man, I watch as he glances over it.

"Anna Summers, huh?" I nod again. "Well, Anna, I'm Ralph. Nice to have you aboard. Welcome to the gym!"

"Thanks!" I beam. "I'm so excited; I love gyms. That's not weird is it?"

Ralph laughs and it's so boisterous it resounds throughout the entire floor, I'm sure.

"To some it may be," he replies. "But not to me, and I'm sure the rest of our members would agree with me. Why would you join a gym if you didn't love working out?"

"Ha, right. Silly question."

He shakes his head, the smile still on his face. "It wasn't, really. A silly question would be if you walked in here and asked if we had treadmills."

This time I laugh. "That _would_ be silly!"

He chuckles before turning back around.

"Let me get your membership card for you," he says. "We'll put your first bill in the mail next month."

I nod, despite the fact he can't see it.

While Ralph is busy making my card, I take the time to look around. The lobby area was pretty big. Immediately after walking in, Ralph's desk was to the right and to the left was a display of items for sale like water bottles, towels, even clothes with the gym's name and logo on it. The further in you went, eventually you came across gates like they have down in the subway. Upon swiping your card, you were permitted access to the rest of the gym. I walk over to the gates to inspect how it worked so I wouldn't look like a fool the first time I tried to get in. It looked simple enough.

Backing back out into the lobby, I look up. There was a large window that spanned the entire building from the second floor that looked down into the lobby. I watch as several people run on treadmills, there was even one guy on a bike. I grin; and that was just what I could see from here. I was getting more excited by the minute.

"Anna?"

I spin around as Ralph calls me. I basically skip back to the desk.

"Yes?"

He smiles at me again. "Got your card ready." Brandishing the card, he hands it to me.

"Great, thanks!" I nearly squeal.

"Can't wait to see you," Ralph then states.

"Yeah, I'll most likely be back tomorrow!"

"See you then."

I thank him again and start to head out. Thinking of something last minute, I spin back around.

"How late are you all open?" I call.

"Technically we're open twenty-four-seven," Ralph hollers back. "There may not be anyone at the desk, but you'll always be able to get in with your card."

I beam. "Great."

Waving and thanking him once again, this time I actually walk back out to the street.

As I head back towards Central Park to head home, I glance at the gym over my shoulder and smile once more.

My training starts tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 2: Goddess of Fight

**Oh look, another short chapter. **

**Ugh, sorry. The good news is that if they stay short, I can probably continue to manage to update once a week. So, a poll: shorter chapters and quicker updates, or longer chapters and slower updates? Keep in mind I'm also working on ANEN at the same time. Cumbersome, I know.**

**Review, favorite, follow, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Goddess of Fight<strong>

It wasn't until a month later that I saw Elsa for the first time.

I had come to the gym late one night, due to the fact that I had picked up a job in the last week which had me working most afternoons until late at night. I didn't mind the late hours, and I was actually excited to go to the gym so late. It got pretty busy during the day and I was anxious to see if it would be dead this late at night. Since it was dark out, however, I decided to take the subway, figuring that was probably safer than running through the park at night. I would need to ask Kristoff about that later.

Anyway, I get to the gym and walk in and am not the least bit surprised when I see no one at the front desk. Neither Ralph nor his young assistant I had met the other day, Vanellope, were present. I shrug; Ralph had said not to fret if no one was there. I glance at my phone for the time. It was nearly midnight; no wonder no one was at the front desk.

Swiping my card, I head towards the locker rooms on the first floor to change and store my stuff. I still hadn't run into anyone yet and I shamefully had to admit that it was beginning to creep me out.

I mean, I was seemingly alone in this _huge_ building; don't tell me I wasn't allowed to be freaking out a bit. People really didn't work out this late? Surely I couldn't be the only one with a work schedule that only allowed for really early morning workouts or late night ones.

Trying to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling, I continue to go about my business. Confining my stuff to my self-designated locker, I head up to the second level to start out with a two mile run on the treadmills since I hadn't been able to run over.

I went about my usual routine—weights, rowing, a fifteen minute stretch and water break, and another mile run—before I decide to check out the room designated for boxing for the first time.

Yeah, I know, as big of a boxing nut as I am and I still hadn't checked out the room dedicated to boxing workouts? What kind of boxer am I, right?

Honestly, I was afraid.

Boxing isn't your typical sport like basketball, soccer, or football; it's rare to find a college or university with a boxing program let alone a _high school_ with one. I really had only been competitively boxing my last two years of high school; it wasn't until then that I managed to scrounge up enough interested students and convince one of my teachers to sponsor us that we got a team.

We weren't much; barely five people strong, but I still loved it nonetheless. I hate to say this in fear of sounding narcissistic, but I was definitely the best on the team. "Coach"—who was basically my AP Calculus teacher junior year—even told me so, so I'm allowed to gloat, right? As an entire team, we never managed to bring home many prizes, but as an individual, I managed to win nearly all my matches. I was good at boxing, and now I was beginning to discover it. All that beating up on Kristoff growing up had really paid off.

Anyway, that's what made me move to New York City in the first place: the boxing scene. Two tournaments take place every year in the Fall; one for rookies and one for experienced boxers. Obviously when I sign up, I'll be signing up for the rookie tournament. I may think I'm good at boxing, but even my ego can restrain itself enough to realize I'm not near good enough to compete with _real_,_ legitimate_ boxers. After all, I'm just an eighteen year-old kid; I can't stand up to twenty-plus year-old men! I'd get slaughtered! I may have a good physique and a strong build, but even that can't and won't save me from the iron fists of giants!

Okay, maybe that's my mind just getting over-excited. I did say I have a brilliant imagination, right?

Thankfully, I am saved from even stranger thoughts developing by noises coming from a room down the hall. As I continue my approach, I realize they are coming from the boxing room. I feel my stomach flip. Someone else was here? And in the boxing room, no less? Great; now I was probably going to end up looking like an idiot somehow.

I come so close to turning around and saving my discovery of that room for another night, but the grunts and grumbles that continue to escape the room have my interest piqued.

"Damn it!" I hear come from the room, followed swiftly by the sound of a bag being punched. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!"

So, not only was someone at the gym this late, in my boxing room, and cursing, but they also seemed to be very self-deprecating.

"Fuck it," I grumble, deciding to continue my approach.

Curiosity killed the cat; and in this case, the cat had red hair and teal eyes.

Right outside the door now, I carefully peer around the frame and into the room. Forgetting I was attempting to discreetly spy on someone, my eyes immediately light up at the sight of all the equipment and have to hold in an excited gasp.

This room was awesome! Everything I had dreamed of using back in high school was at my disposal! There was even a mock ring in the middle of the room!

Another grunt and 'fuck!' remind me I'm not alone.

My eyes travel across the room until they settle on the lone figure in a corner, beating the literal stuffing out of a punching bag.

_Hot damn!_ is all I can coherently get my mind to think.

This "lone figure" is a girl; and a _hot_ girl at that.

Oh yeah, might have forgotten to mention I'm hella gay; although that should have been easily assumed from my introduction. Why would I lust over and eventually fall in love with a girl if I was straight?

Okay, off target yet again. Back to the hot girl.

Okay, so yeah, I was only staring at her back for the moment, but I'd be damned if it wasn't the sexiest back I'd ever seen.

Is that weird?

From what I could immediately observe, she was built a lot like me. Long, slim—_delicious_—legs, her skin pulled so taut against her back that I could literally see her spine moving in accordance to her exertion from across the room, even through her clothing. Her hair was a very light blonde and was pulled back into a braid, which was quickly becoming mussed from her frustration. She was wearing yoga shorts and a slim-fitting tank which easily allowed me to drool over her milky shoulders. I could only imagine what she looked like from the front.

I had to find out.

Before I reveal myself, I pull back out of the room in order to catch my breath and plan some sort of speech so I don't go in there blabbing like an idiot. Even though I probably would end up doing so anyway, I had to at least _act_ like I wasn't a mesmerized, gay, fool.

So, maybe the lust developed before the interest, but, come on, if anyone else had been there, I _know_ they would have been in the same boat as me.

This girl was flawless. She was a goddess. Forget the fact that I had only seen her backside thus far, she was beautiful nonetheless.

I peer back in as I hear her deliver another blow to the bag. I watch as a hand clenches into a tight fist, black fingerless gloves covering what I am sure are perfect hands. I cock an eyebrow in curiosity at the long, black arm brace covering her right arm from her wrist to her shoulder.

Swallowing a lump in my throat and praying my eyes don't look as star-struck as I think they do, I make myself known.

"I was sure I was the only one who worked out this late," I say as I enter.

I watch in amusement as she spins around, braid flying over her shoulder, eyes wide as saucers.

My amusement quickly dies, however, when I notice the look of fear and self-loathing shimmering in her beautiful blue irises.

"Stressful day?" I inquire, hoping to hear her voice.

Her mouth forms a tight line as she frowns, immediately looking away from me and to the floor.

"You could say that," she grumbles.

My god, I was smitten. Even though she was practically growling while silently seething, she had the most sublime voice. It was lofty, yet smooth.

I had been correct when I said she was a goddess.

"I'm sure the bag's hoping tomorrow turns out better," I say in my most chipper voice, wanting to cheer this goddess up before me.

I'm still not to this day exactly sure, but I could have sworn I saw the ends of her lips twitch up in the briefest of smirks at my quip. Regardless of whether it was there or not, my chest swells with pride. I had gotten this ethereal beauty to smile.

Sort of. Maybe.

I take a few hesitant steps closer, approaching her like you would a cornered puppy; slow and careful, but with what you hope is the warmest look you can muster.

"Working out is the best way to relieve stress," I try again.

"Unless it's the cause," is her curt reply.

Okay, so she isn't a woman of many words. I can work with that. For her, I would work with anything.

"Why?" I can't help but ask.

She shoots me a glare that freezes me in my advance. Damn; if looks could kill…

"I don't even know who the hell you are; what makes you think I have anything to say to you?"

I frown. "I'm just trying to help."

She continues to glower as she replies, "Well stop trying. I don't need any help."

Then, without sparing me another glance, she strides from the room with an air of elegance and regality surrounding her.

I stand there for a good five minutes just running through the conversation—if you could even call it that—in my head.

Who _was_ that girl? Why did she seem so familiar?

It wasn't until I awake with a start at six in the morning that I remembered.

Elsa Arendelle.

_Holy shit, that was actually her!_ I exclaim in my mind. _The Elsa!_

For anyone who doesn't know, Elsa Arendelle is, like, the boxing prodigy of today. Most—including me—consider her the best female boxer this side of the globe—hell, maybe even the _world_! She had been seventeen when she made the Olympic team, and her first year there she brought home a silver medal. Like, that's a big fucking deal! Then, four years later, now just twenty-one, she made the team _again_ and brought home the fucking gold! Like, are you _shitting _me?

Ugh, sorry; I have a tendency to curse a lot when I get riled up.

Anyway, so she wins the silver and gold and everyone's expecting her to announce whether she will be competing in the next Olympics when suddenly…

She goes off the grid.

Literally, no one had seen hide nor hair of her since two months following the last Olympic Games. Now it's been a year and she still hasn't resurfaced.

Until tonight.

I _saw_ Elsa Arendelle. She lives in the same city as me. _She goes to the same gym as me_.

I _have _to see her again.


	4. Chapter 3: Blow by Blow

**Well, since nobody voiced their opinion on updates, you all will continue to receive whatever I dish out. **

**So, I pose another poll: Anyone have any ideas what Elsa's "secret" is? I won't tell you if you're right or wrong, but it could still be fun. I love interacting with my readers, so please, humor me.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Blow by Blow<strong>

It was the next night when I ran into her again. I was walking into the locker room of the gym around eleven-thirty at night, and there she was in all her glory, finishing up a workout of her own.

"Hey again," I greet as I walk swiftly to my locker, remembering her foul mood last night and wary of how I would be received this time.

She looks to me from her spot on the bench, towel around her neck, and smiles at me.

Actually _smiles_.

I think I died and went to heaven.

"Hi," she answers in a soft voice; it was like she did a complete one-eighty from last night.

Maybe she has a twin? Maybe I met her evil spawn last night?

Regardless, I smile back.

"Better day?" I inquire.

This causes her to look away and I want to smack myself for saying the wrong thing. Looking at the floor now, I can see her trying to keep a tough front on, but deep down, I knew she was struggling with something. She was closing in on herself.

"Maybe a little bit," she whispers.

I'm afraid to ask why, since when I asked last night, she immediately shut me down.

Instead, I hesitantly sit down next to her and duck my head down, trying to get a glimpse of that beautiful face of hers.

Our eyes meet and I beam. She smiles back, almost shyly.

Seriously, this was _not_ the same girl from last night.

"Things will get better, you know?" I tell her, being the optimist I always am.

She frowns again and I internally berate myself once more for always saying the wrong things.

"I appreciate your optimism, but I seriously doubt it," she mumbles back.

I smile awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Do I ask why she thinks that and risk being given the cold shoulder again? Do I brush it off and pretend to be uninterested?

Without really giving it much thought, I choose the latter.

"I'm Anna," I say, holding a hand out before me and smiling.

She glances to my hand briefly before biting her lip and looking away.

She doesn't shake back.

"Elsa," she mirrors.

I drop my hand, secretly disappointed she refused my attempt to reach out.

"You like to box?" I ask next, deciding to pretend I'm unaware of who she is was the best option for now.

I get another smile out of her at that, but her eyes are still troubled.

"I love it," she replies, speaking in a soft tone again. "I've only been doing it for a few years, but it's just the best."

"I love it too," I say. "I've only been competitively boxing for two years, but I'm hoping to make it big here soon."

"New York is one of the best places to get your start, I suppose," she tells me, looking back up to me finally. I grin when her eyes meet mine.

I swear I see her blush.

Then, like always, she looks away again and pushes her bangs out of her face.

"Listen," she begins with a sigh. "I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you last night. That was rude of me; I'm usually not like that, really. You just…caught me at a bad time."

I smile, trying to let her know I didn't hold anything against her. "It did look like you had a personal vendetta against that bag or something."

My heart swells when I hear her laugh, and I swear it sounds like the chimes of the most precious bells.

"In a way, I suppose I do," she responds.

I raise an eyebrow in question. She smirks briefly before it falters again.

"It's nothing," she sighs. "Really, don't worry about it. I did want to apologize, though."

I wave her comment away. "Totally forgotten all about it," I reassure her, even though that was the least bit true. I was still trying to decide if this girl before me was really the Elsa I ran into last night. I'm beginning to think I may never figure it out.

She smiles briefly again before looking to the clock on the wall behind me.

"I should go," she says. "Leave you to your workout."

"We should work out together sometime!" I chirp before I could reel the thought back in.

She blinks, momentarily surprised, but then I see that same look of fear I saw last night cloud her eyes.

Why was she scared? She seemed to be having no problem interacting with me tonight.

"M-Maybe," she stumbles out, before she quickly gathers her belongings and flees the room.

Once she was out of sight, I _did_ end up smacking myself in the forehead.

Four times.

"Way to go, Anna," I grumble to myself. "That was going pretty well until you basically tried to set up a date with her."

I suppose this shows I've always lacked the ability to be suave. Probably why I've never had a girlfriend before; I scare them away with my awkwardness before I can lay on my "Anna charm."

Hell, who am I kidding; I don't have any charm. Might as well resign myself to the fact that I'll most likely be forever alone. I manage to take comfort in the fact that Kristoff will most likely join me in living a lonely life. There's no way that guy is going to get a girlfriend if I can't. He's worse than me.

And I'm not just saying that.

XxXxX

"So wait," Kristoff begins, pausing the movie we are currently watching on Netflix. "You're saying you actually _saw_ Elsa Arendelle two nights in a row _and_ spoke to her?"

"Yeah," I nod. "It was so weird, Kristoff. I mean, the first night she's basically a bitch to me, and then last night it was like she was some nervous, cornered school girl or something!"

Kristoff chuckles. "Well, maybe she disappeared because she has multiple personality disorder or something."

I frown. "That's not funny," I tell him seriously.

"Did you ask her what happened to make her quit boxing?" he asks next, totally brushing off my previous comment.

"No," I reply, somewhat offended. "You expected me to go up to her and say, 'Hey, you're Elsa Arendelle! Why have you suddenly dropped off the face of the Earth? You know, 'cause everyone totally has a right to know, so might as well start with me?'"

Kristoff chuckles again. "Well, maybe not quite that elegantly," he jokes.

I huff. "You funny, funny man," I grumble. "Actually, I kinda pretended to not even know who she was."

"And _why_ would you do that?"

"I didn't want to scare her off or risk having my head bitten off again!" I retort. "Were you not listening to _anything_ I just said?" I groan. "Either she would have transformed into Ms Bitch again and probably yelled at me to mind my own damn business, or she would have clammed up and cowered in a corner because I knew who she really was!"

"I think you're blowing this way out of proportion," Kristoff deadpans.

"Well, you weren't there, sir, so you have no right to judge me."

Kristoff raises his hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough," he says. "So, do you plan to actually tell her you know who she is? Or just continue to be some crazy stalker?"

"Acting like I don't know who she is doesn't make me a stalker!" I cry. "If anything, telling her I _do_ know her is even more stalker-ish!"

Kristoff rolls his eyes at me. "Calm down, feisty-pants, it was just a suggestion."

When I simply glare at him in retaliation, he rolls his eyes yet again.

"You think you'll ever see her again?"

"I hope so," I mumble. "She was hot."

Kristoff smacks me upside the head.

"Um, _ow_!" I yell. "You bastard, that _hurt_!"

XxXxX

I didn't run into Elsa again for another week.

For a second, I thought maybe she had dropped off the face of the Earth _again_. I mean, with the way she was acting the last time we ran into each other, it wouldn't be that surprising, really.

Maybe me showing up at the gym two nights in a row and confronting her really did startle her. Maybe that was the reason she went to the gym so late; in hopes no one else would be there.

Maybe she was hiding something?

She didn't just "disappear" or anything after the last Olympics for no reason; something must have happened that caused her to become this way. She's hiding from something, and, in essence, hiding from everyone.

But why?

I _had_ to know.

Because of my newfound interest in this girl, I continued going to the gym late at night in hopes to see her again. For a while, I had no luck—maybe I really _had_ scared her off—but then one night, I brought Kristoff with me and she was there again.

"This place is creepy this late," Kristoff mutters, actually throwing in a visible shudder to add to the effect.

"Oh, calm down you big baby," I grumble, sliding my card through the reader. "This isn't one of our video games where a deformed creature is going to jump out and startle us. The only thing here is _maybe_ Elsa, and she's far from deformed, trust me."

"I take it we're heading to the boxing room in hopes she'll be there again?" Kristoff asks, as he slides his own card through.

I had taken to going straight to the boxing room after changing to see if Elsa was there again. If she wasn't, I just shrugged it off and went to start my workout—even though now I'll admit I was always slightly disheartened that she wasn't there—and if she was…?

Well, obviously she never _was_ there, so I hadn't gotten that far yet.

But when I did?

I actually hadn't thought that far ahead.

Typical Anna. Go me.

"Doesn't look like she's here," Kristoff announces.

I come back to reality and realize that we had already arrived at the boxing room.

Sure enough, it was devoid of the blonde beauty.

I sigh.

"Maybe I really _did _scare her off," I whisper, finally voicing my thoughts.

Kristoff grunts in response before I become acutely aware of a presence behind us.

"Scared who off?"

Jumping, I immediately spin around.

I couldn't help the grin that flooded my face.

"Elsa!"

Said blonde just smiles cheekily.

"You were expecting someone else here this late?" she inquires.

This time, _I_ blushed. I wasn't sure, but were we flirting? Well, I had yet to say anything but the unpleasant squawk of her name, but was _she_ flirting with _me_?

Elsa Arendelle had done a complete one-eighty yet again. At least her bitch persona had yet to make itself known.

Still grinning like a love-struck fool—what? I'm just being honest—I suddenly remember it wasn't just us tonight.

"Oh! This is my friend, Kristoff," I explain, gesturing to the bulk of a man next to me. "He usually comes during the day, but I convinced him to come with me tonight."

Elsa instantly reverts back into her shell as I introduce Kristoff. I see her eyes dart nervously over to him—and is that a hint of _sadness_ in her eyes?—before she grabs her right arm, her left curling around her middle almost protectively. I notice she was yet again wearing that black brace on her right arm.

"Hi," she says so softly I almost miss it.

Then she turns on her heel and flees down the hall.

I blink and look to Kristoff. He had the same puzzled expression I'm sure I was donning.

Shit, what had I done _now_?


	5. Chapter 4: Pulling Punches

**Chapter Four: Pulling Punches**

After witnessing Elsa run from me for a third time, I gave up trying to approach her. That wasn't to say my interest in her had dissipated—hell, if anything, it had increased ten-fold—but I had been trying to steer clear of the blonde. Obviously I was missing a big piece of the puzzle that was Elsa Arendelle, and every time I thought I had come close to finding a piece, it was torn away from me.

I had always hated puzzles.

Kristoff would say that I did continue to subtly stalk her, but I say I just continued to "check up" on her. I no longer engaged her if I saw her at the gym, but rather _I_ was the one to take off before she could get a word in edgewise. Okay, so yeah, I may have been giving her a taste of her own bitter medicine, but obviously everything else wasn't working.

This isn't to say holding back was easy. Anyone who knows me knows I'm one hell of a stubborn gal; this was most certainly still the case with regards to Elsa. Some days, trying to be…well…_un_-stubborn—I refuse to use the word "submissive"—was literally physically painful. I was a boxer; I wasn't one to roll over and give up a fight, and boy was Elsa sure putting up one fight.

I _would_ get her to talk.

I _would _befriend her.

"How" was still the million-dollar question.

XxXxX

"So you really haven't said anything to her since?" Kristoff asks me one day over another pair of burgers in our favorite spot in Brooklyn. "You've seen her though, right?"

"Yeah," I reply, waving a fry around as I speak. "I see her all the time now, but either she doesn't see me 'cause I slip out before she does, or she does see me, but doesn't say anything."

I pause and Kristoff just continues to stare me down.

Rolling my eyes, I add, "Fine; there was this one time she approached me in the locker room, but I just left before she could say anything."

"Why the _fuck_ did you do that?!" Kristoff scolds so loud, everyone in the restaurant turns to look at us.

An older lady glares at him before glancing to her two children next to her and Kristoff blushes.

"But, really, Anna," he continues, his voice significantly quieter, "you blew her off! Isn't that the first time _she's_ ever approached _you_?"

I shrug. "Now she knows how I've felt all those times she's basically done the same thing to me."

Kristoff rolls his eyes. "That's childish, Anna," he scoffs. "You're acting like this is a match and you're trying to match your opponent blow for blow or something. I know you adore boxing, but not everything is punch and duck."

"Since when did you become a philosopher?"

Okay, so maybe this whole thing with Elsa had made me kind of bitter. I had been a lot more "snippy" lately when I never was before, but, I mean, wouldn't anyone be kind of miffed that every time they tried to talk to someone, they were talking to a whole different personality? And then being blown off?

Okay, so maybe that time I asked her to work out with me she was scared more than anything, but she could have at least shouted a "no, thank you" over her shoulder or something as she departed.

And in case we're still unclear about the whole "multiple personality" thing?

Case 1; also known as the miss-bitch incident.

Case 2; also known as the shy-school-girl incident.

Case 3; also known as the almost-flirting-before-running incident.

We clear? Good.

So, for all I knew, the _fourth_ time we "talked" could be an entirely new case; regardless of if she actually spoke to me first. I can't be blamed for being anxious, and therefore "bitchy"—as Kristoff would put it—of my own accord to speak to her again.

_Anyway_—gods, I keep getting sidetracked—Kristoff kept trying to convince me to give Elsa another chance. Of course, it was a given that she would get one, what with the intense mysterious aura emanating from the girl herself.

What can I say? She had me drawn to her; and mysteries plus a stubborn personality does not equal giving up.

Does that make sense?

"Well, you already know my stance on this," Kristoff says with a shrug of his shoulders.

I stare him down. "Yeah, but I'll either come out of this looking like a stalker, or a bitch," I grumble while basically drowning my fry in ketchup.

"At least you can't come out a _stalking bitch_!" Kristoff jokes. "You only get to be one."

I roll my eyes. "Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better."

XxXxX

Another week passed. I continued going to the gym on my normal, late schedule. I hadn't run into Elsa at all which I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Good because I hadn't had to run away from her again, but bad because it could mean any number of things.

As I walk into the boxing room and head to the far corner where the large sandbag I practiced on all the time hung, I begin going over what I know about Elsa.

Start with the most obvious: she's _the _Elsa. She obviously has some kind of "secret" that has kept her out of the spotlight. She always comes to the gym late at night, like me.

Okay, I think as I dish out several punch combos on the bag, maybe I could combine those two facts. Elsa comes to the gym so late _because_ of this "secret." Maybe, whatever it is, she's afraid someone will find out, so she only works out when the chances the gym will be empty are highest?

It would explain her night-owl tendencies.

What else?

I duck an imaginary blow from the bag before sidestepping and landing a hard jab.

She has a hard time engaging people because of whatever she's hiding? She wants to be able to go about her life, but she also has to keep whatever it is hidden, so she's constantly going back and forth between moods?

That might explain the whole "multiple personality disorder."

Maybe the first night I saw her, she was pissed at whatever she's hiding. Then I come in, this complete stranger, so she snaps, fearing I saw something. Then, she goes home that night and realizes her behavior was uncalled for and wishes to apologize. The next time we interact, she's nice to me because she's trying to reach out. She knows I meant her no harm. Because of that, the third time, she attempts to come even further out of her shell and engages in subtle flirting.

Then…

With a spin and a double tap, the rest comes to me.

Then she sees Kristoff, another stranger. Seeing him frightens her, so she closes up and flees. Whatever this secret is, it makes her feel vulnerable.

She had been trying to open up to me and was making considerable process, but then Kristoff came into the equation and threw everything off.

I halt in my mock match, bending over and panting.

It makes complete sense, really. I'm proud of myself for putting together such a complex hypothetical situation.

"You were distracted."

The sudden intrusion has me startled, and I spin around, fists raised.

She's standing there, eyes wide again as she steps backwards.

I briefly notice she's wearing that brace again before she's talking to me.

"Sorry," she says, hands raised in apology. "Didn't mean to scare you."

I debate shrugging her off again, but take Kristoff's advice and give her another chance to open up.

After all, this is the first time she's spoken to me of her own accord. She may have even sought me out.

"Well, now we're even," I reply somewhat curtly, referring to the first night when I startled her.

She grins a little and says, "I suppose we are."

We stand there, and I'm just waiting for a tumbleweed to blow between us and old western music to kick in. I mean, with the way we're staring each other down, it would be perfectly suitable.

She looks away first, and I smirk internally, proud I held my ground.

"Um," she mumbles. "Were you practicing for anything particular, or just because you like it?"

"Well, I do plan on entering the tournament coming up in the fall," I tell her. "But I also work out to clear my head as well. I guess that's what I was mostly doing. Have a lot on my mind and all."

I don't fail to notice a look I can only describe as longing pass over her features as I mention the tournament, but it's gone once I bring up clearing my head.

"Well, as I remember you telling me, exercise is a great way to relieve stress."

I grant her a smile as she uses my words as her own. So, she's actually hung on to our conversations; that's good.

She smiles back—shyly again—and I only grin further.

Her eyes dart to the ground before me for a second before they're focused back on mine.

She's blushing.

I gulp.

"This may come off too forward, but…" she bites her lip and I have to contain my squeal at its utter adorability, "can I buy you dinner? Or…breakfast? Or whatever you want to call it?"

I become aware of the fact that it's most likely nearing one in the morning and I'm basically being asked out. I also don't fail to recognize the fact that I've been sweating and can't look at all like something someone would want to been seen in public with.

But with the way Elsa's blushing and looking everywhere but me, I can't help but think maybe this is real.

Or it could just be some cruel dream.

"Why?" is all I can get myself to utter.

"Because I realize I've been somewhat of a bitch to you lately, when you've been nothing but kind to me," Elsa replies. "Plus…" she looks away again, "you're the first person I've spoken to in a long time."

"Really?" I ask next.

She nods, but doesn't say anything.

I blink. Holy shit; she's opening up to me. Like, _actually_ opening up to me; she wants to talk to me; she recognizes all the effort I've put in trying to talk to her. And now she's finally reciprocating.

I beam.

"Well, I _am_ starving," I tell her cheekily.

She meets my gaze again and our smiles mirror each other.

"Great," she whispers.

* * *

><p><strong>Guys, I'm losing motivation to write… I literally had to fight myself to get this chapter done. Help.<strong>

**I actually love writing, and I love this story so far, and I have **_**big**_** things planned for it, but my motivation is just sooooooo lacking. Someone come find me and kick my ass in gear.**

**Please?**


	6. Chapter 5: Dig Deeper

**Thanks so much for all the kind messages regarding my lack of motivation, guys. Warms my heart to know this story has so many fans.**

**I have made a decision on what I'm to do. Hopefully I don't lose any of you for this.**

**This will be the last update of Sucker Punch for a while. I like this story a lot better than A Never Ending Note, and want to able to devote the attention this story deserves because of that. However, I don't feel I can do that **_**and**_** work on ANEN as well. So, I have resolved to finish ANEN first, devote all my attention to finishing that up and then come back here to give you all the story you deserve.**

**This means Sucker Punch will be on a temporary hiatus, but please do not fret. I will be back as soon as possible. I didn't plan for ANEN to be that long, and I can wrap it up fairly quickly while still giving it the attention it so rightly deserves as well. I will not sell either of these stories short, but that does mean one will go untouched for a while.**

**School also starts Thursday for me, so working on two stories **_**plus**_** schoolwork is going to suck. This is yet another reason for this method of madness.**

**Anyway, I hope none of you are too upset, as I love the constant support this story has been receiving. I'm hoping maybe just a month and a half is all I'll need to finish up ANEN and return here, but with school, you never know.**

**So, there you have it. Please enjoy this last chapter for a while. Hopefully I've left you with enough of a cliffhanger to keep you curious while I'm away.**

**Love you all!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five: Dig Deeper<strong>

Elsa is nice enough to wait for me to take the world's fastest shower and throw my hair up in the world's messiest bun before we head out. When I emerge from the showers, she's sitting on a bench in the locker rooms, staring down at her phone and rubbing her right arm, fingers dancing up and down that brace of hers.

"Hey," I greet as I approach, retrieving my bag and stuffing clothes into it.

She looks up and smiles. "Ready?"

I grin. "I'm always ready to eat!"

She chuckles, but quickly hides it bashfully behind a hand. My grin only widens at the action.

We end up at a small 24/7 diner, which is actually close to my place. Because of the late—or does one-thirty in the morning count as early?—hour, we opt to take the subway instead of walking through the park. I don't mind it in the least, seeing as how I do it all the time, but I can't help but be acutely aware of how it seems to put Elsa on high alert. It's only when we descend the stairs and immerse ourselves in a surprisingly large crowd for the time, that I notice Elsa had been wearing an overly large hoodie this entire time. Pulling the hood up, she wraps her arms around herself before hunching over slightly; almost like she's trying to bury herself in the clothing.

"You okay?" I ask, debating whether to reach out to her physically or not.

She spares me a glance and I immediately pick up on the anxiety swimming in her troubled—yet extremely beautiful—irises.

"Yeah," she mumbles in reply. "Just…don't like crowds, is all."

"We don't have to do this," I tell her, not wanting her to push any limits she may have.

This time when she glances my way, I'm awarded with a shy smile.

"It's fine, really," she says. "I want to do this."

Her eyes tell the real story.

_I _need_ to do this_.

"Okay," I whisper as we continue to weave our way to a train.

We're safely on board before we know it, yet Elsa still doesn't put her hood down. I begin to think it's maybe because she doesn't want anyone to know who she is.

I almost say something to that effect, but realize last minute that she still thinks I don't know who she really is. I'm beginning to think that I need to tell her. Perhaps it will make her more at ease.

As I watch her continuously wring her hands together though, I recognize she's still on edge and decide to wait until we're at our destination.

We make it to the restaurant with no more hassles—other than pushing through _another _crowd upon getting off the train. Seriously, I thought that whole "city that never sleeps" thing was made up—and I actually feel relieved for Elsa's sake.

Once we're seated a considerable distance away from any other patrons, she lowers her hood.

I can't take it anymore.

"Don't you think you make it more obvious wearing that hood like you do?"

She looks up from her menu and to me, uncertainty and a spark of fear in her eyes. I smile my gentlest smile in hopes to calm her.

"W-What?"

"You don't want people to know who you are, yet it seems to me like you're drawing more attention to yourself with that hoodie," I explain.

She blinks at me, mouth agape in the cutest fashion.

"You know who I am?" she asks in a whisper, as if her identity is the world's biggest secret.

But, for her, maybe she _wants_ it that way.

I blush guiltily. "Yeah," I mumble. "I freaked out when I first saw you and thought maybe pretending to act like I didn't know who you were was for the best." Seeing her still staring at me, I feel a nervous ramble coming on. "I… I didn't want to scare you off any more than I already had," I attempt to explain. "I mean, you kinda just dropped off the face of the Earth after the last Olympics and I figured you had a reason and…I don't know—like I said, I freaked. I mean, I…idolize you, you know? I mean, making the Olympics at seventeen? Winning the silver on your first try? Then the fucking _gold_?! I just…"

I slowly trail off as I see her avert her eyes to the table and take her lower lip between her teeth. I realize I'm probably either embarrassing her or offending her, and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if I'm doing both, because, let's face it, I'm me.

"Sorry," I mutter. "Didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything."

She says "it's fine," so quietly that I can't help think it's anything _but_ fine.

I want to change the topic, I really do, but now that we're sitting here in a position to actually talk, it's all my mouth can think to blurt.

"Is that why you always come to the gym at night?" I ask. "Because you don't want people to see you?"

She shrugs, but the quick look she gives me says all I need to know.

My brain is screaming at me to start talking about anything but this, as Elsa is clearly growing even more uncomfortable and she's most likely about to up and leave me. However, my brain and my mouth have never gotten along well, and so my mouth continues to use its mind of its own.

"Why don't you want people to know who you are?" My mouth fires next at her. "I mean, I'm sure it can get annoying to be so famous, but-."

"Can we please talk about something else?" she snaps, effectively shutting me up.

I blush again and smile sheepishly as I apologize.

Elsa surprises me when she smiles in return.

"It's okay," she says. "I'm sure you have questions; I just…can't bring myself to answer them at this time."

I simply nod in turn, the words "at this time" instilling hope in me that perhaps one day I will learn the truth.

If I had only known then what an impact that "truth" would make in both our lives.

The rest of our "date"—because, let's face it, with how much both of us were blushing and all the shy glances that were stolen, that's, in essence, exactly what it was—goes by without a hitch. I manage to steer clear of talking about Elsa's fame and bringing up any questions, and instead our topics of discussion range from everything like our favorite color, to embarrassing childhood stories, to deep philosophical discussions about the possibility of an afterlife.

We split a stack of pancakes a mile high and both discover our love for chocolate when we both reach for the chocolate syrup at the same time, our hands briefly touching.

It was such a cliché moment, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Elsa also literally has to bribe the waitress into not allowing me to pay for anything, as she stands firm in her belief that this outing is her treat to make up for her rude treatment of me. Half of me detests greatly to this as I am my own individual and don't need anyone to take care of me, no matter how kind the offer, while the other half is happy to have Elsa treat me to anything else in the near future. If it gets her to smile as much as she has been tonight, anything would be worth it.

When she learns my apartment is only a few blocks down from the diner, she offers to walk me home, and my heart nearly explodes at the selfless gesture.

"It's nearing three in the morning," she tells me. "I've watched enough CSI: NY to have me fearful to let you walk home alone."

I chuckle as I hold the door open for her and we step out onto the sidewalk.

"Well, _I've_ watched enough CSI: NY to know exactly what to do should I ever become a victim," I reassure her, even though I would most likely just end up screaming should anything like that actually happen.

It gets her to smile again though, and so it's effectively another victory for me.

The streets are nearly deserted now and so Elsa leaves her hood down. I look to her out of the corner of my eye as we walk and simply admire this ethereal beauty beside me.

I wish she wasn't so fearful of whatever it is she's hiding. Sure, fame might make you not want to not be noticed by everyone, but going the extra mile to _only_ workout when the gym is sure to be empty? To go to such lengths to _hide_ yourself in crowds? To make sure you're sitting as _far away_ from other restaurant patrons as you can?

Yes, Elsa Arendelle was definitely hiding something; and this something was much larger than just distaste of the paparazzi.

But, I would be patient, I kept telling myself. I had to.

We were at the entrance to my apartment building before I knew it.

"Would you like to come up?" I ask, brushing an imaginary strand of hair behind my ear like I always do when I'm nervous. "I can make some coffee."

She smiles kindly, yet shakes her head in the negative.

"I should really get going," she says. "But, um…" she looks quickly to me before focusing on the door behind me. "There was actually another reason I wanted to do this."

"What is it?" I ask.

I can't help but smile goofily as she blushes once more, amazed I actually have this kind of effect on someone when usually _I'm_ the one who can't control the color in their cheeks.

"Again, I hope this isn't too forward, but…I'd like to offer to…to train you. For the tournament."

I stand there, her offer having shocked me to silence. I blink, and only realize I haven't said anything when she begins to turn away, a look of heartbreak present on her gorgeous face.

"W-Wait!" I cry. "Yes! Yes, Elsa, I'd love it if you were to train me." I beam. "I'm flattered."

She copies my grin, her blush only growing.

A question then comes to me and I cock my head. "But why?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Honestly, I don't really know," she tells me, confusing me even more. "You just…remind me of myself, I guess, and I want to help. Plus, like I said, you're the first person I've held a conversation with in a long time and I really enjoyed tonight, so… Yeah."

I'm sure my face is as red as hers by the time she awkwardly finishes her explanation. I laugh in good humor.

"Well, that makes enough sense to me!" I chirp. "Count me in!"

She smiles, flashing perfect white teeth framed by even more perfect lips. I have to physically restrain myself from crashing my lips to hers in that moment.

"Great," she exclaims, looking happier than I've ever seen her. "See you tomorrow night at the gym?"

I can only nod, still too busy trying to contain my hormones.

"It's a date," I utter.

She bites her lip in typical Elsa fashion, before running a hand through her hair. She doesn't immediately take off though, which is a significant step up from last time.

"Great," she repeats.

We stand there awkwardly for a few moments with what I'm sure are similar thoughts. Do we just separate? Do I just offer an informal goodbye and then leave her on the stoop? Is she going to give me a hug? Should I give _her_ a hug?

Are we supposed to kiss?

Neither of us meet each other's gaze until I clear my throat.

"Well…" I start uncomfortably. "See you tomorrow night then?"

My heart cracks at the look of disappointment that flashes across her face.

Shit, did I just reject her?

"Yeah," she whispers.

Then, she's down the stairs and turning the corner before I can shout goodbye. Pulling out my keys, I groan loudly.

What the hell have I just gotten myself into?


	7. Chapter 6: Stand Your Ground

***Trumpet fanfare plays in background***

**Sucker Punch is back, you all! **

***Everyone rejoices***

**But really, I apologize for the hiatus this story had to go on. Even with it out of the picture, I still had a hell of a time finishing A Never Ending Note. Alas, the deed is done, and now I can devote all my attention and love to this story. **

**Also… *Cue evil laughter* After making you all wait two months, I leave you with the evilest cliffhanger of all evil cliffhangers! Bwa-ha-ha. **

**But, it's also the longest chapter to date, so you all can't get too mad. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen. Now I think I'll go cry in my room after that painful realization.**

**Please review!**

**P.S. Also, for those of you who weren't reading ANEN, I have a Tumblr now! x-sodenozangetsu-x! Give me a follow!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Stand Your Ground<strong>

The next few weeks were awkward to say the least. The first night we met for training we were still so…reserved…around the other that we didn't really get much accomplished. Elsa basically had me show her all I knew and she gave me a simple rundown on what I did well, what I could improve on, and etcetera before we yet again lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. The air was so thick with tension—and do I dare say it was partly sexual?—that one would have had to use a machete to cut through it.

I mean, I could just be painfully optimistic about all of this, but what other reason would Elsa have to look at me briefly before immediately looking away and blushing?

I was beginning to think maybe wearing a sports bra and shorts had been going down the wrong alley. I was clearly making the poor girl suffer.

Then again, it wasn't like she was doing anything to help _me_; what with those skin-tight leggings and dark blue sports jacket.

Okay, so maybe she was dressed conservatively compared to me, but did her outfit _really_ have to be so…form-fitting?

The first night was by far the worst, not only because of the awkwardness of the entire situation, but also because Elsa seemed far too distracted to do much "training"—or teaching, in her case.

It got a little easier after that. Elsa and I continued to meet on a regular Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday schedule and, ever so carefully, we both became more comfortable around the other. That isn't to say there weren't any secret stolen glances or subtle flirting anymore, just that we had grown accustomed to it. So much so that it almost became expected of the other. After a while, dressing for the gym soon became as important as dressing for a five-star restaurant. I had to dress to impress; whether I was in a simple tank and basketball shorts or an exquisite spaghetti-strap dress didn't matter. All that mattered was that Elsa would be seeing it, and I didn't count it a success unless I got a blush out of her when I first met up with her.

I usually did, although I could tell she tried her best to start to hide them as time went on.

I knew this entire process was huge for Elsa. She had made it clear she made it a point to hide from others, using her introversion more as a shield than a personality trait; yet she continuously showed up every night on the dot for our sessions. Sure enough, slowly but surely, she became more open and animated with me with each one.

So, one day, I broke down and asked her out.

And, before anything gets blown out of proportion, it wasn't supposed to be an "out" in a date sort of way. While I secretly harbored the hope that I could one day ask her out in such a way, I knew now was not that time. She had come so far in these short few weeks, I didn't want to send her running back for the hills.

"Good," Elsa comments as I complete a combo we had been practicing. "You're still locking your knees up though, and that's hindering your movement."

"You saying I'm wound too tight?" I joke, throwing her a grin over my shoulder.

She smirks and replies, "That's _exactly_ what I'm implying."

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I had indeed managed to elicit sarcasm from the blonde goddess herself. No applause necessary, really.

Not letting my grin diminish in the slightest, I barrel straight on forward.

"If that's the case," I speak up, trying the combo once more, "perhaps you'll join me tomorrow?"

When I finish and turn to look at her for critique, her arms are wrapped around her middle—what I've learned she always does when she's nervous.

She keeps her eyes on me, however, which is impressive.

"Doing what exactly?" she asks.

My hand comes to rub the back of my neck—my own nervous tick; and judging by the way Elsa is now smirking at me, she realizes this.

"I don't know," I mumble. "Honestly, I didn't think I'd get this far."

When Elsa stays silent, I start blabbing like I usually do.

"It doesn't have to be anything big," I exclaim. "Maybe just a walk through the park? I'd just…like to do something with you during the day…outside of this gym." I chuckle, feeling suddenly overcome with the way Elsa is almost scrutinizing me now. "I mean, these meetings at night are nice, but I just feel so…"

"Isolated?" she offers. I smile weakly in confirmation, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

A few seconds pass in which Elsa darts her eyes around the room as they glaze over. Apparently she's thinking hard about this. Then her eyes flicker to me and she flashes me a smile before averting her gaze to the punching bag over my shoulder.

"Yes," she whispers.

"Yes?" I echo, somewhat shocked by her seemingly confident answer.

"Yes," she repeats; affirms. Looking back to me, she smiles again; big and wide, teeth showing. "I'd like that, Anna."

I'm too overcome with giddiness at her acceptance that I only vaguely realize that was the first time she's ever said my name.

XxXxX

The following day comes and I still find myself mildly surprised when Elsa shows up, meeting me at the entrance to Central Park that's across the street from my apartment building. Still, the giddiness from last night is present, so I don't remain shocked for long.

As Elsa approaches, I can't help but be floored by her beauty. If I thought Elsa was a heavenly being in mere workout clothes, then she's even a step above that in street clothes. Dressed in a pair of baby blue skinny jeans, purple t-shirt, and white cardigan, she radiates beauty and commands respect like some kind of queen.

I honestly wouldn't mind having to bow down to her.

Woah, okay, that was a lot over top there. Down, Anna; heel, girl.

Reining myself in as this goddess on Earth nears, I manage to compose myself before flashing my trademark, goofy grin, waving like crazy even though she's only ten feet away and can clearly see where I'm standing.

Still, she's a good sport as she waves with almost as much as enthusiasm back, smiling shyly back at me.

Gods, this girl is fucking adorable.

"So, you've lured me into the light," she quips. "Now what?"

"Now, we have some fun!" I cheer, hesitating only slightly before grabbing her arm—her left one, as I notice even today she's still wearing that brace—and dragging her deeper into the park.

We don't do much, really just walk and talk, nothing more, but to me, it seems like the most fun I've ever had.

We're walking across a bridge, side by side and with cones of soft-serve in our hands, when Elsa speaks up—she had been fairly quiet all day, letting me do most of the talking.

"I suppose I should thank you," she says, her stare boring into her ice cream so hard I'm just waiting for it to spontaneously combust.

"For the ice cream?" I put on, knowing Elsa's about to take this conversation down a serious path. Not the best with emotionally-heavy material, I try to keep the light ever present. "'Cause they were only two bucks."

She smiles briefly and giggles softly before her gaze focuses elsewhere off in the distance. Finishing off my cone quickly, I give her my undivided attention.

"I know I've touched on this several times, but you're really the first friend I've had in a long time, Anna, and I want to thank you for that."

I smile warmly; any attempt to put her at ease I take. My heart swells when she calls me her friend as I had been afraid to put a label on what we had, and am elated to know she thinks of me as more than a "student."

"Can I ask why?" I question next. "Why you haven't had many friends?"

She chuckles dryly and responds, "I think you know why."

I think I do too, but that doesn't mean I'm in any way confident that my theories are the truth.

"I want to hear it from you, Elsa," I tell her.

We're now standing in a small circle with a tall statue in its center. I watch Elsa look around us, taking note of all the people milling about.

"Not here," she mumbles.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes as she yet again avoids giving me an answer. I'm tired of this cat and mouse game we have going on. She can't say something like that and then not expect me to push more from her. I mean, that's not being rude, right? She keeps bringing it up first!

I contain my snarky retort as I try to remind myself that this is Elsa and she is doing her best. I need to try and see this thing from her perspective.

The biggest thing remains to be that she _does_ want to tell me—or someone. She trusts me enough to confide in me, and that fact alone couldn't make me any happier.

"Then where?" I gently prod.

When her eyes continue to dart around, I place a hand on her left shoulder and squeeze.

"I promise whatever it is won't send me running."

She actually _does_ roll her eyes at me.

"You say that now…"

Pulling my hand back, I blink.

"Jesus, Elsa; did you kill someone or something?"

She laughs, but it comes off more like a scoff. She fixes me with a stare, blue eyes swimming with apprehension, emotion, and a burden she fears no one can ever truly understand.

Except me.

I will make every attempt to understand _anything_ she has to tell me. Hell, I would attempt to understand why she murdered someone if that were the case. Like it or not, this girl is stuck with me.

Apparently, she's able to pick up on my stubbornness and unwillingness to turn away, for when she blinks, the intensity of her gaze is gone, replaced with what can only be described as surprise.

"You really have that much faith in me?" she asks.

I beam and nod.

"Call it unwavering optimism or whatever you'd like, but yes; I believe in you, Elsa."

She sighs heavily, and I hope she can feel the weight of the world trying its damnedest to lift from her shoulders.

As she brushes her bangs from her face, she huffs, arms wrapping around her middle once more.

"Can you come by my place later tonight?" she asks, and my mind immediately goes to the gutter, drawing out every possible innuendo that isn't there. "I promise I'll tell you everything then."

I promise her I'll be there and she leaves me standing in the center of the park, a crumbled piece of paper with an address on it clenched in my hand, solidified hope in my gut, and my 100-watt smile gleaming on my face.

It may not seem like much to go on to anyone else—after all, I've learned one too many times in high school that promises can mean shit—but for Elsa, with Elsa, it's more than enough.

XxXxX

"You're not reading it right, Annie!"

The small, shrill voice of a toddler reminds me I'm at work, sitting in a circle of children, and supposed to be reading Dr Suess books.

Apparently, I'm failing in that endeavor. When children begin to criticize you, you know you're doing something wrong.

I smile down at the little boy in my lap—who insists on calling me "Annie" no matter how much his mother or I tell him different.

"I'm sorry, Olaf," I say. "Would you like me to start over?"

He nods his head furiously, and with the cheers of ten other children in the background, I really have no choice but to comply.

Still, if Elsa would just _text_ me to let me know what time she wanted me over tonight, perhaps I wouldn't constantly be checking my phone on the floor next to me and therefore no longer jeopardizing my imitation of The Cat in the Hat.

"What's the matter, Annie?" Olaf asks as I flip back to the beginning of the book.

"Yeah," another kid, Marshall, chimes in. "Don't you like reading to us anymore?"

My smile falters. "Oh, of course I like reading to you guys!" I exclaim, taking time to look at each little face individually.

Good gods, they all look heartbroken! Why are kids so sensitive?

"Are you sick?" Olaf asks next, going the extra length to reach up and touch my forehead.

I chuckle and grasp his hand in mine.

"No, Olaf, I'm not sick. I'm just…worried for a friend."

"Why come?" a little girl asks, and I chuckle at her fumbled grammar.

Gods, how do I even attempt to explain this?

"Well," I start carefully, "she's going through a rough time right now. I told her I would try to help her, and now tonight she's going to tell me what's going on."

"Why's that bad?" Marshall questions, leaning forward, seemingly intrigued. "Sounds like a good thing to me! You're gonna help her!"

"Yeah, but…" I copy him and lean forward, wrapping my arms around Olaf and biting my lip. "I feel like I may have pushed her into it. She might not be ready."

"People are always ready for help!" Marshall cries.

"And you're helping her!" Grammar Girl adds. "Sounds like she's in good hands to me."

Olaf looks up at me and notices my lasting frown and creased eyebrows.

"Is there something else, Annie?"

I chuckle and ruffle his dark brown locks.

"I just don't know how much help I'll be, buddy."

"But you always help us," Grammar Girl points out, and I see all the other children nodding in agreement with her claim.

"Yeah!" Olaf chirps. "You kiss our boo-boos better, you rock us to sleep at naptime, and you call our parents when we're sick!"

I laugh again as I reply. "I'm afraid it's not that simple this time, Olaf. Elsa's a lot older than you all, therefore her problems are more complicated."

"Will our problems get more…_comp-i-cated_…as we grow up?" Marshall asks, his eyes as wide as saucers.

"Elsa's a pretty name!" Grammar Girl yells, disregarding anything I had said afterwards.

I smile at the little girl. "Yes, it is," I affirm. "And she's very pretty herself."

"Do you like her?" Grammar Girl all but shouts after portraying an overly dramatic gasp.

Olaf giggles as he sees me blush. Sitting him on the floor beside me, I pick up the forgotten book that had gotten me in this situation in the first place.

"Why don't we get back to the story?" I offer.

A collective groan is my answer, and I can only roll my eyes.

Kids…

XxXxX

I'm at the gym later that night—despite it not being one of my scheduled training sessions with Elsa—when my phone rings. I can hear it trilling loudly from my locker as I'm in the showers, and I immediately know it's Elsa. Kristoff only calls me this late when he's drunk and I know he has class tomorrow so… It better not be him.

But that's beside the point.

Knowing I'm the only one in the gym this late, I don't hesitate to dart from the showers in only a towel, and manage to get a good enough grip on my phone to answer it on its last ring.

"Hello?" I answer, out of breath for a variety of reasons.

Elsa immediately picks up on my breathlessness from the other line.

"Anna?" she asks, as if she's worried she has the wrong number for a moment. "Is this a bad time?"

"No!" I quickly tell her. "Great time! I just showered and finished up at the gym, but I'm good! Great, actually." _Now that you called_, I add in my head.

When I only hear the sound of quiet breaths on the other end, I take it upon myself to ask the big question.

"Are you ready for me to come over?"

Another few seconds pass before Elsa breathes out such a quiet "yes" that I'm afraid its static.

I smile warmly though, even though Elsa can't see it.

"Great," I reply in an equally quiet exhale.

"Do you still have the address?" she asks.

I nod, again aware Elsa is oblivious.

"I do," I tell her.

"When you get to the lobby, press the button for my apartment number and the elevator will unlock."

"Do you want me to bring anything?" I offer. "You know, to make this easier?"

I hear her chuckle. "What, like a tub of ice cream?"

This girl thinks I'm joking.

"Yeah!" I cheer. "Or a blanket, or a pizza, or a puppy!"

"I'll take the puppy," she says with another laugh.

I make a _tsk_-ing noise and let out a long sigh. "Fresh out of puppies," I play along. "Just gave the last one away."

"You're a tease, Anna," she says with a giggle, and I swear I will never tire of her laugh or the way she says my name.

"I try," I quip.

Suddenly realizing I'm standing in the middle of a public locker room, dripping wet and in nothing more than a towel, I instantly become self-conscious. No doubt Elsa is dressed immaculately on the other side as she sits curled up on her couch or something.

"Well," I cough since we have fallen into such silence that I can hear water droplets falling from me and onto the tiled floor, reminding me of how naked I am and how the awkwardness of this situation is steadily rising with every tick that sounds from that annoying clock on the wall. "I'm gonna get dressed, and then I'll be right over!"

"Okay?" she says, and I realize it probably sounds more like a question because she's wondering why I basically just told her I'm talking to her in the nude.

I decide telling her I am covered won't be doing much to save face at this point, so I just offer a goodbye before hanging up.

"God damnit!" I scream, hurling my phone back into my locker. "Why am I so _awkward_?!"

Seriously, can I please have a conversation with this girl where I _don't_ make a fool out of myself? As I return to the showers to finish up—yes I had actually been in the middle of showering when I answered the phone; ten more awkward points to me—I pray I don't mess tonight up. I don't need to appear a bumbling idiot when Elsa is basically going to be baring her soul to me.

Then again, I am just an eighteen year-old kid; I'm in the prime of my awkward. Someone's got to embrace it, right?

Gods, I need a new word for "awkward."

XxXxX

In just a little over forty-five minutes later, I'm standing in the lobby of Elsa's building—which is bigger than the size of my entire apartment, believe it or not.

Finding "Arendelle" under the number 1403, I push the little button between name and number. A bell sounds and the elevator next to me opens.

I'm halfway up when I begin to freak out.

I forgot the pizza and ice cream.

No, but seriously, I'm about to find out what could basically amount to _the biggest_ story in sports today. Elsa Arendelle, the boxer who vanished without a trace, is confiding something so scandalous in an eighteen year-old nobody.

Then again, me being an "eighteen year-old nobody" is probably all Elsa has going for her at this point.

Every optimistic bone, muscle, vein in my body instantly detests the fact that I just called myself a nobody. I'm anything _but_ a nobody, they try to convince me instead—yes "they" as in my bones, muscles, and veins are talking to me; get over it. If Elsa is telling _me_ her deepest, darkest secret, I have to be important, right? She wouldn't just spill this to _anyone_, right?

I'm questioning this and more as I exit the elevator and progress down the hallway, eyes scanning for that special door with 1403 printed on it. I find it with no trouble and come to a stop before it. Raising my fist, preparing to knock, I stop.

_Elsa_ is on the other side of this door. Maybe she's curled up on her couch, arms wrapped tightly around herself to keep a hold on her sanity as she waits for my arrival. Maybe she's written down everything she's about to say on index cards and is rehearsing her speech in front of her bathroom mirror. Or maybe she's as chill as can be and couldn't care less that I'm right outside her door, frozen in the act of knocking.

But with everything I know about Elsa—which isn't all that much, regrettably—I highly doubt it's the latter; most likely anything but. I may have just met this girl a few weeks ago and only started really _talking _to her even more recently than that, but I like to think I know Elsa pretty well. I'm beginning to pick up on what makes her who she is and what makes her do the things she does. Tonight will only help me understand her more.

Sardonically asking myself if I even know how to knock, I remember to breathe as my knuckles rap out a melodic _tap tap ta-tap tap_ on her door.

"Elsa?" I ask. "It's me, Anna."

The silence that immediately follows is so prolonged that I'm beginning to think I misread the address Elsa had given me and that I'm in the completely wrong place.

Before I can decide whether to knock again or just leave, the sound of approaching footsteps on the other side of the door stops me. Locks rattle, and ever so carefully, almost shyly, hesitantly, the door opens.

I beam.

"Elsa!" I exclaim with a sigh, relieved I was in the right place. "I thought maybe I got confused somewhere and ended up with the wrong number or something!"

She laughs softly before averting her gaze to the floor.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "I was just…preparing myself, I guess."

I smile sympathetically at her, trying to ease any lasting anxieties.

And then I wait.

And wait.

I'm about to ask if I can come in when Elsa beats me to it.

"Uh, come in, please," she mumbles again, blushing no doubt because of the brief awkward silence that had passed.

I step into her apartment and find myself in a short hallway. Immediately to my right is a shelf with keys and jackets hanging from hooks, a lone picture standing on its shelf. I'm too busy keeping up with Elsa to really see the picture, but I do catch a glimpse of wispy blonde hair and a perfect smile.

"You can sit anywhere," Elsa tells me once we step into the living room. "Do you want anything to drink? I have some water boiling for tea."

Again, I smile and nod. "Tea sounds great, thanks."

She smiles quickly before retreating around a corner. Soon enough, I hear the sound of cabinets opening and dishes being moved about. I can't help but grin at the feeling of domesticity that washes over me.

How can this feel so right—being in Elsa's home, having tea with her, sitting down on her couch—when I barely know the girl?

I'm just taking the time to take in the setting of the living room when Elsa comes back carrying two mugs emitting bursts of steam in one hand. She carefully hands me one which I take graciously before she herself sits down on the opposite end of the couch from me, knees tucked up underneath her body. Frowning slightly at the gap between us, I yearn to move closer, but keep myself at bay. She's nervous, probably borderline freaking out; I don't need to make her even more so by encroaching on her personal space.

Again, silence befalls us, but at least I have my tea to keep me occupied. I want to break the silence and get this ball rolling, but I also want Elsa to be the first to speak. I need to feel like I didn't push her into this. I need her to recognize I'm here for her, not for myself.

I need her to trust me. To _really_ trust me.

"Um," she begins softly, "I don't know if there's any easy way to explain this."

She's refusing to look at me as I respond.

"Well," I say, "not to sound belittling or anything, but how about starting at the beginning? I mean, not the _beginning_-beginning, but… Ugh." I huff. I see her smirk, though, so I just grin and force myself to continue. "What happened after the last Olympics?"

I see her hands clench around the mug in her hands and mine twitch in return, wishing so desperately to take those hands in mine and kiss them until she's worry free.

But, that's too forward. Obviously.

"I—well, my parents—have a home down in the Florida Keys," she starts to finally explain. I lean forward eagerly. She keeps her eyes down. "We were planning to go down and celebrate my victory just like we did after the first Olympics I competed in."

Huffing, she sets her mug on the coffee table in front of us and wraps her arms around her middle, hunching over.

Not caring about boundaries anymore, I inch my way over to her.

"We were going to stay the rest of the summer in Florida, and then in fall I would come back to New York and resume training. I was going to compete in the next Olympics. My parents made a point to make plans with the media for me to announce all this sometime in the winter."

I watch her gulp before she clenches her eyes shut, and I know she's fighting back tears.

"Then everything happened," she whispers brokenly. "Everything fucking went to hell."

I reach for her hand—her left one—without any second thought. If this was being done under any other circumstance, perhaps I would have become elated when I feel her squeeze my hand like a lifeline. Instead, I just stay silent, stomach churning in anticipation as I wait for the bomb to drop.

"What happened?" I can't help but ask, my own voice strained.

She shakes her head, but opens her eyes and looks at me, her eyes scanning the very depths of my soul. I shiver for countless reasons.

"You have to pr-promise me not to leave, Anna. Please," she begs, voice cracking.

I swallow my own lump in my throat. "O-Okay," I squeak. Hoping to reassure her more than that pathetic attempt, I blink and my eyes harden. "I won't leave you, Elsa," I tell her.

A smile flickers across her face as well as several unnamed emotions, before she's back to stoic, eyes wavering nervously.

She takes a deep breath and my hand tightens around hers even more.

Then, she's extracting her hand from mine and reaching for the brace on her right arm.

I hold my breath.


	8. Chapter 7: Beat Down

**So, short chapter this time, but trust me, with the amount of angst coming your all's way, you're going to **_**want**_** these chapters short. It literally might just kill you.**

**Tumblr: x-sodenozangetsu-x**

**Chapter Seven: Beat Down**

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><p>Oh. Fuck.<p>

Ohhhhhhhh, _fuck_!

You know how you never feel adequately prepared for the biggest moments of your life? You know how the biggest moments of your life may also intertwine with another person's life? Like, what is that supposed to be, divine fate? Am I even making sense?

Probably not, but you can hardly blame me.

I mean, fuck, how do I react to this? I was ready to try and accept anything—hell, I was even ready to play defense attorney and prove Elsa's innocence had she said she really _had_ killed somebody. But…_this_?!

What the _fuck_?!

"A-Anna?" she's saying, her voice wavering considerably although I'm completely out of tune to anything but the rampant thoughts rampaging through my head.

I had suspected this "secret" had something to do with that brace of hers, especially when she wore it to our day outside the gym, but…never had I expected this!

I mean, I'm staring at Elsa, who is sitting on her couch, beautiful face streaked with tears, left hand curled around her stomach in that adorable defensive position of hers…

But her _right_ hand?

It isn't there. Neither is half her arm.

Literally, where her right hand and forearm should be is a rounded off stump that ends abruptly at her elbow. To complete the whole thing? A large pink scar holds the skin of the stump together by its seams.

_Fuck_.

"Anna…p-please," Elsa strains, and I'm still only partially coherent enough to recognize the pure, unbridled fear laced in her voice. "S-Say something."

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and some part of me is aggressively criticizing my sudden deficiency in the English language and the fact that I had just promised this girl I would be there for her and that nothing would turn me away, and I'm pretty sure I'm doing a terrible job at convincing her I'll keep true to my word.

"You…" I stumble, my mouth suddenly dry, and _why the fuck _can't I look anywhere beside her arm? "I don't…"

I see her cautiously reach out to me, biting her lip in a way that would usually have me swooning and swallowed in the sudden desire to kiss her, but now it only serves to prove how _real _this situation truly is.

Elsa Arendelle, elite boxer and two-time Olympic medal receiver, only has one arm.

You kind of need two to box.

Damn it, now I'm sure I just sound like an ass.

"Anna, please…" Elsa's begging again, "Sit back down and let me…try to explain!"

It's only then I realize I had jumped off the couch sometime in the last five minutes, and I'm pulling myself back to its plush cushions in a second.

Shaking my head in hopes to dispel my shock and apparent asshole side, my eyes soften and I look—this time actually focusing on her face—back to the beautiful blonde next to me.

"Sorry," I mumble, looking down, ashamed at my horrible reaction. "I just…wasn't expecting that."

She tries to smile, but I can tell it's forced, my reaction truly having made her self-conscious.

"It's not easy to take in, I'll give you that," she mumbles back. "God only knows I still haven't completely."

I glance up at her face, eyes laden with sadness, before I'm looking at her arm again; this time in nothing more than a sympathetic, painful manner.

"How long ago did this happen?" I ask, my voice now gentle in tone and less asshole-ish.

She sighs heavily before she herself is staring—glaring—at the offending stump.

"Two months after the last Olympics," she grits out bitterly.

I suck in a sharp breath; that fits perfectly with the timeline of her disappearance.

Then I realize this poor girl has not only been living in seclusion for _fourteen fucking months_ but dealing with this all by herself as well and my heart instantly goes out to her.

Not like it hadn't when I first saw her, but you get the idea.

"And you haven't told anyone?" I inquire next. "I'm the only one that knows? What about your parents?"

As soon as the word is out of my mouth, Elsa stills and my heart is sinking to my stomach.

Dear gods, please don't be true…

"My parents are dead," she whispers before she's crying, arms wrapped around herself to the best of her ability.

_Fuck_.

"God damn it, Elsa," I grumble, "I'm so sorry. That was…completely rude."

She shakes her head slowly as she sniffs, her head remaining on her knees where I can't see her face.

"It's not, really," she forgives. "You had no way of knowing."

"Still though," I say. "I feel like shit."

I hear her snort a laugh, and a smile flickers across my face before I'm frowning again and thinking about how to proceed. I'm treading on some _really_ thin ice here.

There's a moment of silence where I'm trying my damnedest to keep my eyes off her right arm while she's still curled in on herself, but with the way that scar is now engraved in my retinas, I know I'm failing miserably.

In hopes to distract myself, I inch closer to Elsa, carefully reaching out to her until I have one arm cradling her against my side. At the touch, she immediately clings to me and lets out another sob. I can now feel tears running down my face as well.

I really should have brought that ice cream.

Not only has this angel on Earth lost one of her limbs—and the most important one, given her pastime—but her parents as well. She had been riding so high, on top of the world after that last Olympics, and in one cruel instant, it was all ripped away from her. Like, what kind of justice is that? Congratulations on the Olympics, Elsa, but now you're going to lose your arm and your parents in one fell swoop because you've reached the peak of happiness.

Complete bull, right?

This is why I have never believed in a god. Some omnipotent being who is supposed to love and care for all would never implement this kind of hell on someone, right?

But that's beside the point. Elsa's still clinging to me and sniffling as she grasps handfuls of my shirt, and I know this night is still far from over.

My girl needs me.

"You can ask how it happened," she mutters eventually after she pulls back, smiling shyly yet appreciatively at me as she does so. "I know you're curious."

I'm blushing because it is the question on the forefront of my mind.

"I felt as though I shouldn't pry," I try to explain.

She smiles gently at me and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

"And I'm grateful for that, but I really don't mind," she says, and I blink at how easily she seems to be riding this all out. "I mean, yeah, I do, but my therapist says talking to someone about it will help me come to terms with it. Keeping it all inside like I've been doing is only damaging me in the long run."

Shit, she's seeing a therapist on top of all of this?

I mean, it makes complete sense given all the trauma she's been through, but to me that seems to be adding fuel to the fire.

Then again, what do I know? I'm no psychologist.

"How did it happen, then?" I ask, glancing back to the stump before I focus once again on her face.

Her eyes repeat my action but linger, and she heaves out a sigh before speaking.

"Car accident," she utters, and my heart clenches. "Dad was killed on impact, mom died an hour later at the hospital. I fell into a coma and didn't wake up for two weeks. When I did, I awoke to one arm and two dead parents."

I flinch at the harsh bitterness that she finishes her statement with, and my hand reaches for hers automatically. She squeezes back almost instantly, but no more tears fall, her face hardened, jaw set in stone. Beneath all that sadness, emptiness, and longing in her eyes, a fire burns; one fueled with anger, frustration, and a hell of a lot of survivor's guilt.

"Did they say why you lost it?" I inquire next, praying I'm not crossing any boundaries.

Elsa doesn't turn to look at me and remains focused on her right arm, but she carries on easily enough.

"Passenger side door nearly cut it off completely," she whispers. "They tried to reattach it during surgery, but the nerves were too far gone apparently."

"Gods, I'm so sorry, Elsa," I mumble.

"I know," she sighs.

"So, what you wear now is…?"

She looks to the fake half-arm on the coffee table in front of us and my eyes follow hers.

"A poor substitute," she says bitterly. "It's nothing, really. It's not connected to anything so it's virtually useless. Just fastened on by Velcro. That's why I wear the brace; to keep it in place."

"Have you ever considered getting a prosthetic?" I ask. "I mean, with technology today, it could be-."

"_Don't _say 'just like it was,'" she cuts me off.

I close my mouth instantly and avert my gaze to the floor.

"Sorry," I whisper.

"My therapist is already up my ass about it, I don't need you up there too."

I simply nod in return, not wanting to upset her even more.

Another bout of silence falls between us in which we're both staring at the floor dejectedly, hands still linked subconsciously.

"Thank you for telling me all of this, Elsa," I speak after a while. "I know it wasn't easy and brought up unwanted memories, but…"

She finally looks at me again, and I'm surprised to see her smile gently, a glimmer of contentedness floating in the depth of her irises.

"I know," she whispers, and I can't help but mirror her soft smile.

Suddenly, a clock somewhere in her flat chimes at us, and it's only then I realize it's going on three in the morning.

Before I can even think about getting up to leave, Elsa's tugging at my clothes again, keeping me down on the couch. I look to her and see another wave of vulnerability taking over her.

"Will you…stay, please?" she asks me, and my heart jumps to my throat in elation.

Trying to contain myself and not shout my approval and want in her face, I nod mutely, what I'm sure is a goofy grin on my face given the way Elsa looks to be holding in laughter.

She's as close to beaming as I've seen her tonight and my own happiness levels rise in tune with hers.

"I'd love to stay, Elsa," I am finally able to speak. Grasping her hand once more, I stare her down as I tell her, "I told you I wasn't going to leave you."

She breathes out what sounds like a mix between a cry and a laugh, and before I know it, I'm leaning forward and planting a gentle kiss to her forehead.

God damn, where did this bout of courage come from?

"If anything," I continue, "tonight has only solidified my want to stay with you." And I can only hope she doesn't take that out of context. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

She smiles and giggles in turn, and my heart flips as a coy look slowly builds on her face.

"I hope I come to learn that that's a good thing," she whispers in my ear, and I can't hold back the shiver that wracks my body at the feeling of her breath so close to me.

Face flushed beyond control, it's all I can do to squeak out, "Y-You will," before I'm alone on the couch as Elsa retrieves some spare blankets from her bedroom.

And, despite the fact that I'm sleeping on the couch and not _with_ Elsa, I'm over the moon with joy.

Granted, I had no idea of the trials Elsa and I would come to face that would truly test the bond that was forming between us, but I knew I was ready to face them head on.

No, Elsa was definitely _not_ getting rid of me that easily.


	9. Chapter 8: Rolling With the Punches

**Chapter Eight: Rolling With the Punches**

It takes me a full two minutes the next morning to remember where I am. Immediately upon waking up, I'm aware of two things. One, and perhaps the most important, is that I'm sleeping on the couch in my own apartment. Now why would that be the case? Second, it is _much _colder than I ever keep my apartment. Great, did my thermostat break over night? Just in time for fall, too…

Cracking my eyes open, however, I instantly notice the pale blue walls surrounding me. Mine are a boring white. Then, I look at the coffee table in front of me and see two cups of now-cold tea.

Then it all comes flooding back.

Last night. Elsa. Elsa not having an arm. Elsa's dead parents. Elsa inviting me—_pleading _me, I recall with a flutter of my heart—to spend the night.

Before I know it, I'm pushing myself up off the couch and cautiously tiptoeing down the hallway. I come to a stop in front of a half-closed door before I stop to catch my breath. I want to believe I had gotten up with the intention to go to the bathroom, but I can't help but feel that what's on the other side of this door is anything _but_ the bathroom.

Gods, Kristoff was right, I _am_ a stalker.

Perhaps against my better judgment, I carefully push open the door a bit. Luckily, it doesn't creak at all, and soon I'm staring at what has to be the most beautiful and serene thing on this planet.

Elsa remains fast asleep in her bed, wrapped in her blankets in such a way that only her head is visible and it is absolutely the cutest thing ever.

Not to mention the adorable, child-like smile she dons in her slumber.

Grinning until my cheeks begin to ache, I keep quiet as I retreat back into the hallway, closing the door back to the way I had found it. Don't want Elsa to know I was creeping on her. That would be awkward.

Completely bypassing the bathroom on my way back to the main room, I come to a stop back in front of the couch. Stretching briefly, I contemplate what to do now. Do I stay until Elsa wakes up? Thanking her for last night and letting me stay would be the polite thing to do, but would that be weird to just wait in someone's living room while they are sleeping? Should I just leave a note and leave? After all, today is Saturday so we'll be seeing each other later tonight for training anyway.

Before I can debate further, my stomach lets out such a loud growl I wouldn't be surprised if it woke Elsa up back in her room.

My eyes dart down the hallway, to the cups of tea still on the coffee table, and to the kitchen in front of me. Biting my lip, I weigh my options only for a moment before I'm collecting the mugs from the table and heading to the kitchen.

Smiling softly, I decide to have breakfast waiting for Elsa when she wakes up. Forget the fact that this is _her_ house and _I'm _the guest; it's the least I can do after last night.

Eyes catching the clock on the microwave above the sink, I roll my eyes.

Okay, so it'll be more like lunch since it's nearly two in the afternoon already. But you can hardly blame us since we were up until three in the morning and engaged in an emotionally taxing conversation.

Luckily, Elsa's kitchen is set up similarly to mine and I have some eggs and bacon going before I know it. Knowing Elsa will come out any minute to see me cooking in her kitchen _for_ her does something to me, and soon I can't keep the flush off my cheeks. I mentioned last night that feeling of domesticity, right? Well, it's returned ten-fold now.

But, man, do I like it.

In the midst of cooking and rummaging around the kitchen looking for some pepper, I open a drawer at random to see a lone business card within it. _Milo Thatch, PsyD_ is engraved elegantly in it, along with the name of what I assume is a hospital or office at the very least.

Picking up the card, I examine it more critically. This must be Elsa's therapist she mentioned. Flipping it over, I find it blank, not really quite sure what I was expecting.

Suddenly, I'm dashing to the couch where my phone lays before I'm back in the kitchen, one hand grasping the card, one hand busy unlocking my cell. Before I know it, I have Dr Milo Thatch's phone number, address, and office number stored on my Notepad app.

What am I supposed to do with that? I put the card back where I found it—don't want Elsa to know I'm rifling through her stuff anymore than I am for breakfast. It's not like I can just casually call the guy and ask how Elsa's therapy is going. I mean, I may not be a psychologist, but there is a thing called patient confidentiality, of that I'm sure.

Still, it somehow feels reassuring knowing I have Elsa's doctor stored in my phone.

"You're still here," Elsa whispers behind me then, an air of perhaps shock and surprise in her tone.

Startled, I jump before turning around. Immediately, my heart stops for reasons other than surprise.

She stands not five feet from me in an overly-large NYU t-shirt and tiny, _tiny_ shorts—seriously, they're, like, _sinfully_ short—shuffling her bare feet against the cool hard wood beneath our feet. I bite my lip as my eyes trace her lithe form, completely bypassing the black brace and the secret I now know it's hiding, and simply appreciating what the good lord gave her.

Then, I realize she said something and I probably have a string of drool trailing from my mouth.

"Uh…" I stammer, looking down at the floor. "Was I supposed to leave?"

Before she can answer, my tendency for rambling surfaces and I'm on a roll.

"I thought about leaving, I did, but then I thought that would have been rude. So, then I thought I'd leave a note 'cause that wouldn't be _as_ rude, but then I was hungry and I thought it'd be nice to make breakfast 'cause I know how tired you have to be after last night—not that I'm saying you _have_ to be tired, of course! I mean, we both got, like, ten hours of sleep, and you look completely refreshed—beautiful, even; considering you just woke up. But that's beside the point, and maybe that's creepy to say-."

"Anna!" Elsa's bubble of laughter stops me. "It's okay!"

"It is?" I repeat dumbly.

She nods and blushes a bit as she responds, "I'm glad you stayed; I was hoping you would."

"You were?"

Okay, Anna, stop talking in questions.

"I mean," I shake my head, "I made eggs. And bacon."

Fuck me.

She laughs again and approaches me.

"I can see that," she says. "Thank you."

God damn, she's _so_ close. And smiling; _seductively_, might I add.

"N-No problem," I mutter. "I like cooking."

"It smells delicious."

"T-Thanks."

Grinning, she slowly leans forward, her hand moving like it's going to encircle my waist.

I'm sure I'm sweating bullets by now, as my heart thuds a mile a minute and I'm sure to go into cardiac arrest any second now. I can't keep my eyes off her smile as she looms _even_ _closer_, a sly twinkle in her eye and no trace of a blush anywhere.

I gulp once she's inches from my face. God damn, is she going to kiss me? I'm not ready for this! I mean, not that I don't _want_ her to kiss me, I've wanted nothing so much ever since I first laid eyes on her, but… This is crazy! I just woke up! I can't look remotely like anything somebody would want to kiss! What about my hair? I have a knack for waking up with quite a tangled mess, surely that would turn her off?

Then, she's pulling back, a plate of bacon and eggs in her hand. Giving me a shit-eating grin, she fucking _winks_ at me before heading over to the kitchen island and the two barstools there.

And I swear she fucking sashays her hips like some kind of model _just _to agitate me further.

"Anna?" she asks with a little laugh. "You okay?"

I nod dumbly before grabbing my own plate and sitting down next to her at the island like a kid sitting next to their crush in school. I know I'm blushing madly, and I silently thank Elsa a thousand times for not mentioning it.

I suppose the only thing I have going for me at this point is my female anatomy. At least I don't have to suffer through a boner to make my arousal even _more_ noticeable.

Thank the gods I'm a girl.

We get through breakfast with no more teasing or flirting, just casual conversation of which I'm truly grateful for. Elsa never mentions her "advance" on me, but when our eyes meet every now and then, her face softens like she's apologizing, before giving me a gentle, honest smile.

It's half past two by the time we finish breakfast, and, as politely as possible, I tell Elsa I need to go home. I see a hint of sadness flash behind her eyes for only a second before it's concealed with a look of understanding.

"We're still meeting tonight for training though, right?" she asks like she's afraid I'm going to bail.

"Of course!" I affirm while beaming. "I'm counting on you to prepare me for this tournament!"

She returns my smile before looking to the floor. "Good," she whispers. "I just…" Hesitantly, she reaches to cradle her right arm.

"Elsa," I say with a firm voice, acting to take her hand in mine. "Last night doesn't change, anything, okay? I told you that. I don't care that you lost your arm. I mean, it's tragic, obviously, and I can't imagine what you're going through, but one thing you don't have to worry about is me, alright? I'm not leaving."

Smile pulling at the corner of her lips, she finally looks back at me.

"I'm stuck with you, right?" she says.

This time, _I_ wink at her and a blush immediately ignites her cheeks in a supple pink.

"You bet."

She bites her lip before she's looking away again and I can only roll my eyes. How someone can go from making such a bold move on someone to being reduced to a shy, blushing mess so fast is beyond me.

Yet, it just makes Elsa that much more endearing in my eyes.

"I'll see you tonight, okay?" I say mainly in hopes to reassure her before I turn to head towards the door.

Then, she's pulling me back and into a hug, and fuck if it isn't the best hug I've ever been given. I wrap my arms around her as she buries her nose in the crook of my neck.

"Thank you so much, Anna," she mumbles. "I just… Thank you."

She pulls back and kisses my cheek quickly but softly before I'm let go. Not giving myself a chance to say anything stupid in response, I simply beam before turning on my heel once more and exiting her apartment.

Once I'm outside in the hallway and I hear the door click behind me, I can't hold it in any longer and I start jumping up and down in utter elation, trying to keep my cries of "fuck yes" and "oh my god" as quiet as possible.

When I make it to the library an hour later—where I work—I must still be glowing or grinning too much because it's the first thing Olaf says to me as he runs to give me his ritual warm hug.

"Annie!" he cries. "You look happy!"

"I'm always happy when I get to see you guys, kiddo!" I tell him as he's set back down on the floor.

The kid rolls his eyes at me and says, "Happi_er_."

"What are you going to do about it, little boy?" I ask him, swooping down to tickle him. "You gonna try and take my happiness away from me?"

He squeals in laughter as he tries to evade my fingers, but manages to squeak out, "No, no! I like it, Annie! Honest!"

I release the poor child and, hand in hand, we join the rest of the kids for reading hour.

Just to explain briefly, I work at a library that holds a daycare kind of program for little kids. And yes, they have daycare on Saturdays as well. The group is never as big as it is during the week, but I'm not complaining; I need all the money I can get.

"What do you want me to read today?" I ask, this time addressing the four kids plus Olaf in front of me.

There's a moment of adorable debate between four year-olds before one kid who comes only twice a week drags over The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

"This one, Anna!" he exclaims, tacking on a "pwease"—yes, _"pwease"_—at the end.

I read the book about the silly bug twice before we move on to another one, and am quite surprised when no one brings up what happened between Elsa and me last night. After all, Olaf and Grammar Girl are both here again today, and they were the two who seemed most interested.

Although, I'm not complaining; I mean, what am I supposed to tell them?

I suppose I spoke too soon, however, as Grammar Girl speaks up after I finish One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.

"Did you ever talk to that girl?" she asks with a look of complete rapture on her face.

"Yeah!" Olaf chimes in. "You were supposed to help her, right, Annie?"

"Well, actually, I did talk to her," I tell them. "And I think she's feeling much better."

So, that may not be _one hundred percent_ true, but I like to think Elsa was in a much better state of mind when I left her than she was upon my arrival last night.

"What was wrong?" Grammar Girl asks, batting innocent eyes at me.

"Um… Well, you see," I trail off, thinking of the most subtle, child-friendly version I could tell. "She was hurt and just needed a friend to comfort her."

"And you did?" Olaf asks.

"She's better now?" Grammar Girl adds in.

I shrug, a crooked smile on my face. "For the time being?"

That, of course, is good enough for the lot of four-year olds and they instantly split to go play games, leaving only Olaf in front of me.

"What do you mean, Annie?" he asks, crawling into my lap like he likes to do. "You said 'for the time being.' Does that mean she'll get hurt again?"

This boy is way beyond his four years, if you ask me.

"It's hard to explain, buddy," I tell him truthfully. "She's not hurt like when you get a boo-boo; this is a different kind of hurt. Like…"

"Like losing your nana or pawpaw?" he offers.

That's it! Bless you, Olaf.

"Exactly," I confirm with a grim smile. "She hasn't lost a grandparent, but she has lost something equally as important. Three things, actually… Anyway, don't worry, little guy, when I'm on the case, no one can stay hurt or unhappy!"

That gets him to laugh and soon I'm laughing along with him.

"She should be happy she has you, Annie," he mumbles as I carry him over to where the two other boys in the group are playing with toys. "You can fix anything."

"Thanks, Olaf," I say sweetly. "Now you play with the others. We'll have naptime in another hour."

He grins at me before joining the other boys and soon he's lost in a world of dinosaurs and Transformers. My smile is subdued as I walk over to the desk that has my belongings on it as I go over Olaf's words.

_You can fix anything_.

Can I? The glaring answer is no; this is much more complex than putting the head back on a toy, taping a book back together, or getting the DVD player to work. This is a completely different realm. This involves human emotions and trauma; things I'm not very good at addressing or have been through. I've always known unconsciously that I was lucky my parents are still alive and together, but Elsa just puts everything in a different perspective. Now, I'm almost _guilty_ they're alive, as bad as that may sound. Why should I be able to bask in the comfort and love of parents if someone as kind and undeserving as Elsa had them stripped away?

It's too bad you can't give one of your parents to someone.

I roll my eyes as I admonish myself for the thought. Even if you could do that, it wouldn't accomplish anything. If anything, it may make things worse. Here, you lost your parents, have one of mine because I pity you. Even though I know my mother or father would do everything in their power to make Elsa feel loved as a child should, it would never ever replace what she's lost.

Huffing, I pull out my phone and stare at my lock screen's background. My fingers dance an inch from the screen as I contemplate the buzzing in my head that hasn't left me alone since this morning. Deftly, my fingers unlock my phone and bring up my notepad before I can realize what they're doing.

I'm suddenly staring at that name and number once more; all the while a constant drum in my head tells me to _do it, do it_.

I think it over once more before my resolve hardens and I bring up the Phone app. I'm entering the number and pressing the green call key before I can change my mind. Gulping, I turn my back on the kids as the other line begins to ring.

Half of me is praying to everything out there that someone will pick up, while the other half is hoping against all hope that no one will. After all, it is Saturday.

Then, there's a click and I hold my breath.

_"Hello?"_

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><p><strong>Some lighthearted fluff and kids to make up for last chapter. 'Cause it's just downhill from here… ;)<strong>

**Tumblr: x-sodenozangetsu-x**


	10. Chapter 9: Using the Ropes

**Sorry for the delay… End of the semester is a week away and I've been incredibly busy because of that and the holidays all at once. Give me another week and hopefully I'll be back to weekly updates at the latest, hopefully even a couple a week. Things only pick up from here!**

**Also, can't keep thanking you all enough for reading and reviewing! They're what keep me going! Show Sucker Punch some love! ;D**

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><p><strong>Chapter Nine: Using the Ropes<strong>

It was Monday morning and I found myself sitting in the waiting room of a doctor's office. Elsa's therapist's office actually.

Okay, so I didn't really know what I was expecting to come from this, and even if I managed to find out anything significant, I didn't know what I would do with it. I mean, could I seriously be breaking some kind of law? Going to see a therapist strictly because you know one of their patients in the hopes to get some kind of information out of them? All the while, lying to both the therapist and your friend? Could I go to jail for impersonating a person in need of therapy just to satisfy my pathetic desires to help someone I cared about?

I mean, I was going behind Elsa's back with this. She told me her secret out of confidence that I would still be her friend and leave it at that; not so I could seek out her therapist and indirectly ask for ways to "fix" her.

Gods, when I put it like that, it sounded completely shitty…

I probably have my own place in Hell reserved for me now.

I shift in my seat repeatedly, my nerves on fire. I should just get up and leave now while I have the chance. I can go to Elsa's and apologize profusely for the huge mistake I'm about to make.

There's such a thing as a "snowball effect," right? Well, I have the feeling I'm about to cause a monstrous one.

Then why can't I get up?

My hands are on the arm rests of the chair when a door in the office opens.

"Anna Summers?"

My stomach sinks.

Fuck, there went my chance to salvage the situation.

Looking up, I find a tall, lanky man standing in the doorway. Giving the waiting room one last look over—and contemplating bolting for the exit as my eyes scan past it—I stand, my feet on autopilot as I make my way to him. Reaching him, I notice his mop of unruly, brown hair and large, thin-framed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

My eyes hone in on the small metal badge he wears.

_Dr Milo Thatch_.

I gulp.

"Pleasure to meet you, Anna," he says with a smile, hand outstretched towards me, totally unaware of the turmoil churning inside of me at this moment.

Hesitantly, I take his hand, forcing a nervous smile.

With the nod of his head, he leads me from the waiting room and down a narrow hallway.

Is it just me, or are the walls leering at me, aware of the hole I'm digging myself and the lies I'm about to spill for selfish gain?

We enter a dimly-lit office and Milo prompts me to sit in an overly-plush chair. I sink right into it and just wish it would swallow me whole, throwing me up somewhere far away from here.

"So," he begins, sitting himself down on a couch across from me. I zero in on a plaque on a bookshelf next to him that dons his name and his degree and I swear it, along with his nametag, is there just to spite me. Then, my eyes travel to the top of the bookshelf where a framed diploma from Yale University greets me.

"What brings you to see me?"

_What brings me to see you?_ I repeat in my head somewhat sardonically. _Oh, you know, just the fact that you're Elsa's therapist and I'm hoping to get some insight on how to help her deal with her loss of limb as well as find out all she's been talking to you about._

But, of course, I can't just tell him that. No, if this guy finds out I'm here strictly in hopes to find out about one of his patients, I'll be shot down faster than when I asked my parents for a pony on my sixth birthday.

Not to mention I could feasibly wind up in jail—maybe. Hell if I knew; but the thought was lingering in the back of my mind just to further frighten me.

No, if I was really going through with this—which I seemed to be suddenly roped into now that I was _literally _in the hot seat—I would have to be smart, more meticulous about all this.

"Well," I start slowly, taking care to draw out the last letter to prolong my thinking time. "I have a friend who…experienced something traumatic recently and I really want to help…_him_."

Nice, Anna, my mind quips sarcastically. No way he'll pick up on that pause, 'cause you totally said that as smooth as possible.

I watch apprehensively as Milo nods and jots something down on the legal pad in his lap before looking back to me. He smiles kindly again, and I can't help but feel obligated to return a small one back. Then there's a period of stretched silence and my smile dissipates as I begin to feel increasingly uncomfortable.

Shit, he's about to call the cops on me, I know it.

Is this how Elsa feels when she's here? I guess that explains why she sounded so exasperated when talking about her therapy.

"Am I supposed to be saying something?" I question after a while.

Milo chuckles before asking, "Do you have anything else to add? I was simply giving you time to think."

"Oh," I mutter. "I thought you would prompt me to continue or something. I don't know; I've never been to…therapy before."

"Well, let's get back to your friend, then," he says, and I'm thankful I'm not going to be psychoanalyzed in this moment yet. I'm here for Elsa, not me.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

"May I ask what happened with your friend?" Milo inquires next.

"He…" Crap, what do I say? "He…was in the war…in Iraq," I clarify, hoping he thinks I'm merely uncomfortable about your typical touchy subject and not because I'm just feeding him complete bull. "He was in the war and lost his leg."

Milo frowns at this and his eyes soften. "Anna, I'm so sorry."

_I hope you apologized like that with Elsa rather than quickly dismissing it to further pick her brain_, I think.

Then he shifts on the couch, pen at the ready.

"So, what brings you to me exactly?" he asks. "Where do I fit in?"

"Well, you're a therapist, right? I'm not here for myself, but rather, for him. I want to know what I can do to help."

Writing in his pad, Milo glances up at me. "Does he want help?"

I pause, my eyebrows furrowing heavily.

Did Elsa want help? I wanted to scream the obvious answer was yes, but maybe that was just me and my desire to help her. The fact that she had been living for fourteen months with the secret said the opposite: that perhaps she really didn't want help.

But then, why tell me? After fourteen months, what finally made her crack?

"I like to think so," I finally answered. When he raised an eyebrow at me in response, I carried on. "I need to think so."

"And why is that?"

Damn it, what now?

"Uh," I bite my lip. "B-Because I care a lot about him and I can tell he's really unhappy. Maybe, with a little push from me, he can get back on his feet again—hypothetically of course, because he only has, you know, _one foot_."

Crossing his arms over his legal pad, he leans forward.

"I appreciate your devotion to your friend, Anna, and I'm certain he does as well, but have you asked what he wants yet?"

When he sees me frown, he smiles.

"It can be hard for patients who have lost something as substantial as a limb to submit to help. Many realize the fact that they lack something so significant automatically makes them weak, and so they can put up walls to keep others out and keep themselves strong. Am I making any sense?"

I nod, but add, "But he told me." Looking up, I continue, "Isn't that like a cry for help in its own way? I mean, _he came to me_ and told me this. Aside from his…war buddies…I'm the only one that knows."

"He could be asking for help by it, but also think of the burden of carrying around something like that; of keeping it from someone close to you like yourself," Milo states.

So Elsa told me not for help, but just because she had to get it off her chest?

I mean, that makes sense, but would she really not want _any_ help _at all_?

"But…" I trail off.

Think, Anna. I had been doing a decent job until now—despite a kick to my gut every time I told a lie—but I needed something else.

"Before the war," I begin, talking slowly and taking time to work my way through this, "he loved to play soccer. Now, without his leg, he can't. What if there was a way he could play again? Is there a way?"

So, Elsa, the boxer without an arm, had turned into a male soccer player without a leg. I hoped Elsa wouldn't cross his mind and cause him to question me. I mean, he could theoretically have more than one patient that's an amputee, right?

"I'm sure there is, Anna," Milo reassures me. "Many amputees go on to receive prosthetics that are almost as good as the real thing. They can go on to play soccer, they can swim, and I've even heard stories of one man scaling a mountain after losing his arm."

Really? Sweet!

"Could an amputee ever compete in the Olympics?" I blurt without thinking.

Shit. Red flag, red flag; he's got to know what's going on now.

I swallow a knot in my throat when I see his eyebrows crease and I swear the look he gives me is scrutinizing on a whole new level.

"I…suppose," he carries on regardless. "Was this to be an option before the war?"

"I mean," I start, hoping I'm not sweating like I think I am. God, it's hot in here. "He was never scouted or anything, but I certainly thought he was good enough."

"Well, you'd have to do your research, but I don't see why not," Milo says. "I mean, he could definitely compete in the Paralympics."

That wasn't good enough. Not that the Paralympics was anything short of a miracle for those with disabilities, but Elsa had competed in the Olympics twice already. I could keep the Paralympics on the backburner, but I really wanted to hear she could still compete at the highest tier.

"I guess," I mutter.

"Again, Anna, I have to ask, what does he want?" Milo questions.

"I don't know!" I cry, lashing out. "I just see the pain in his eyes every time I do something he can't! I know he wants help, but he's afraid to get any for whatever reason. I want him to know I'm here for him; I already told him I wouldn't leave him, but he doesn't understand how much I care!"

"Do you love him?"

Fuck. Hold up, what?

"What…do you mean by that?" I ask, my mouth suddenly dry. "'Cause I love him like a brother and best friend, but you're talking about…"

Milo grins, though it's not Elsa's "shit-eating-I'm-totally-fucking-with-you" grin from a few days back. It's sincere and soft.

"Are you in love with him?" he restates.

My cheeks flare up, and I can tell by the stretch of Milo's smile that my blush is as obvious to him as it is to me.

"I—uh… I mean…"

Milo merely shakes his head and chuckles briefly before he's apologizing. "I'm sorry, Anna; forgive me. Regardless of the level of your affections for him, it's clear as day that you do care about him a lot."

"I do," I manage to choke out. "Care about him, that is."

I didn't think I was in love with Elsa. I mean, I couldn't be, right? I barely knew her and had only met her maybe two and half months ago. You can't fall in love with someone that fast, right? This was just some innocent crush.

Right?

I see Milo look at the wall behind me at the clock that's hanging over my head. Flipping his legal pad back to its first page, he clears his throat.

"Well, I believe our time is up for today, Anna," he tells me.

"O-Okay…" I mumble, still mulling over that silly word "love" in my mind.

"Just take your time with this, okay?" he adds. "Amputee patients can come off cold and callous, but it's just a defense mechanism for the most part. If your desire to help is truly coming from the bottom of your heart and shows itself in the right and truest fashion, your friend will open up soon enough. Perhaps try taking little steps; ask him if he would consider going to a group talk with other amputees."

"Is that something you read in a textbook, or is that from personal experience?" I can't help but ask. Screw being careful now, I'm getting frustrated.

Milo just chuckles and escorts me out the door.

"I can't disclose that to you, Anna," he replies.

I leave the office that day with more questions than answers. I take the subway back to my apartment in a zombie-like state, trying to structure my thoughts.

One thing is certain: I'm in this a hell of a lot deeper than I had ever anticipated.

And what do I say to Elsa?


	11. Chapter 10: Round One

**Chapter Ten: Round One**

"Anna? You okay there, Red?"

I blink and hone in on the bulk of a man sitting across from me, wearing a confused—and slightly amused—expression with both eyebrows raised high.

"You've just been staring at your burger for the past five minutes," he says. "You trying to will it to talk or something?"

I force a dry chuckle and set my burger down.

"Sorry, Kristoff," I mumble. "Just-."

"Thinking?" he finishes for me with a smirk. "Yeah, I've noticed. You've been doing a lot of that lately. The fact that we lost two campaigns last night in Call of Duty says as much."

Despite the roll of my eyes, I can't deny Kristoff is right. I have been thinking.

_A lot_.

_About Elsa_.

Yeah, creepy, obsessed, stalker-sounding, right? Believe me, don't I know it.

Ever since meeting with Milo on Monday though, it's like my brain won't turn off; or even switch gears to something other than what I have now dubbed "The Elsa Problem."

Okay, so "problem" makes it sound worse than it really is. She's not a problem; far from it, really. But the entire circumstance of her arm? That's a problem. That's what I have not been able to stop thinking about.

How do you help someone who doesn't want help?

"Anna?" Kristoff's voice beckons me back. "You're doing it again."

I roughly shake my head, hoping to dispel any thoughts, but really just giving myself my one hundredth headache of the week.

"Ugh, sorry," I grumble. "I can't help it."

"What's got you so enraptured?" he asks, stealing a fry from me—which I won't complain about for the first time since I haven't eaten much since Monday.

"Nothing," I mutter.

"Well _that's_ complete bullshit if I've ever heard any," he says sarcastically.

I can't refrain from rolling my eyes again. "It's none of your business, Kristoff."

"When it's changing my best friend right before my eyes, I like to think it is."

I compel myself to take a bite of my burger before I answer, "I can't tell you."

He opens his mouth, no doubt to try and refute, but I manage to cut him off.

"Listen, I can't tell you, okay?" I basically plead. "Let's just say I've gotten myself into a situation I need to handle myself. I already feel shitty by doing certain shitty things, and I don't need to be even _shittier_ by telling you what I promised to keep secret."

"Sounds shitty," he quips.

That kind of sense of humor would usually have me clutching a stitch in my side with laughter, but now it only further serves to aggravate me.

"You have no idea," I grumble once more, all but shoving the rest of my meal down my throat.

XxXxX

The past few days, I had been doing all possible research of prosthetics. Seriously, you would think I was writing a dissertation on it or something if one was to look through my recent browsing history. I had found a multitude of results varying from your most simple prosthetic that wasn't much more than what Elsa had already, to a whopping million dollar, cutting-edge-technology, seriously futuristic shit replacement limb. And yes, the site actually used the term "replacement limb" rather than prosthetic. That—along with the fact that I will most likely never have a million dollars in my possession at once—immediately made me exit out of the page.

If Elsa was so against your basic prosthetic and the fact that she could possibly be "like she was," she would most likely die of frustration and woe at the term "replacement limb."

I mean, not like there was any easy way to breach such a delicate subject such as this, but really? _Replacement_ limb? Yeah, that's basically what it amounts to, but you just can't say those things out loud!

It wasn't until Saturday morning—and by that I mean three in the morning—when I came across what just had to be the Holy Grail of all my research.

Graduate students from Columbia University are working with doctors at Mt Sinai Hospital in an experimental study to create affordable, robotic prosthetics. Of course, when I say "affordable," the site still means thousands of dollars, but…at least it wasn't a million, right?

The site had a link to an info page about the robotic limb and why it was so revolutionary. Hand, arm, foot, leg; all four were being tested. Regarding the arm specifically, it was all done through connecting the nerves still present in the stub of the actual arm, and connecting them in some scientific manner that I would be crap to explain to the prosthetic. The design is sleek and a combination of metal and carbon fiber. It actually weighs the same as an average arm, so it's not so blatantly obvious you have a Terminator arm.

The best thing?

They are working to produce a kind of sleeve if you don't want the robotic part to show. They can even match your skin tone and everything and, from the looks of the website, using Elsa's hated term, "it looks just like it was!"

Granted, the price proved a problem, but it wasn't any concern unless you completed the trial, meaning your body accepts its new robotic part without any form of rejection, as well as the patient passing a psych evaluation to make sure the gain isn't too much for the amputee's mind to handle.

Yeah, so this was a _huge_, monumental step—and maybe even a step in the wrong direction—but I still felt like I had cracked the code to some long-lost secret or something.

The obstacle still in the way was how to gingerly bring this up to Elsa without setting her off. I knew I was treading on thin ice with this particular concern, and I had come so far with her that the last thing I wanted was for her to start hating me.

But, I also wasn't about to let her live the rest of her life in hiding and never figuring out all the potential she still had. I mean, Milo said it himself, she could still possibly compete in the Olympics if she got some kind of prosthetic. That had to mean something to her, right? Sure, she had already won the gold once, but she was still so young! She still had so much of her career left unexplored! She can't just discard her talent and waste away her years when she could potentially become the best boxer in the world!

Sorry, Mr Muhammad Ali…

So, I knew it wasn't going to be easy, and my trip through Hell hadn't even started yet, but I was young, stubborn, and naïve. I thought I could accomplish anything and I was determined to show Elsa I was right about this; about everything.

She would come out on top of this, and I would be right there with her.

Happily ever after, right?

If only it could have been that simple…

XxXxX

"Anna, your timing is completely off," I hear Elsa criticize me for the umpteenth time that night. "If that bag were a person, you would have been down for the count several times already."

I huff and wipe sweat from my brow before spinning to face her.

"Sorry," I mumble out an apology. "I'm just-."

"You're thinking about something," she, like Kristoff, finishes for me.

Damn, am I really that easy to read?

Hanging my head in shame, I nod. "I'm sorry, Elsa," I whisper.

I never see it, but she grants me a small sympathetic smile before approaching me, and I feel her hands coming to rest on my shoulders; one heavy and warm, the other light and hollow.

I grimace at the touch subconsciously and she immediately removes her hands.

"I-I'm sorry," she stutters, "I was just…"

I'm immediately flooded with guilt when I see the hurt and fear in her eyes as she even starts to back up from me.

"No, Elsa!" I cry, reaching out for her left hand and stopping her retreat. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But you flinched," she points out.

_Because the reason I'm so lost in thought just literally landed on my shoulder,_ I find myself bitterly thinking.

Instead, I manage a smile and reply, "My shoulder's been sore the past few days. I must have pulled a muscle sometime earlier this week."

Another lie. Go me.

"Oh," she breathes, an overwhelming look of relief passing over her face as she smiles bashfully. "Well, good; I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You mean it's good I'm hurt?" I manage to snidely comment.

Immediately she blushes and shouts an adamant "no!" before I'm doubled over laughing.

Seconds later, she joins in, and in that moment, everything was good. I may have been hiding so many things from her and simply postponing dropping this imminent bomb, but at that moment in time, no matter how fake it was on my side, that happiness was good enough.

I just wish it had stayed…

XxXxX

"_What?_"

I gulp as Elsa stares me down, the light in her eyes quickly clouding over. It was several nights later. Having just finished a training session at the gym, Elsa invited me back to her place to unwind. A kind, innocent invitation, yet one that meant so much more since Elsa was really beginning to reach out, and here I had just gone and fucked it straight to Hell.

"Just…theoretically," I repeat, "if there was a way you could box again, w-would you do it?"

"I thought I made my distaste for any prosthetic clear enough, Anna."

I look away from her heavy gaze as she uses my name as if I'm a child to be scolded; which, honestly, suits the situation perfectly.

"I mean, you told me not to mention it, but why, Elsa?" I question. "Why don't you want one?"

"Why do _you_ want one?" she fires back.

"'Cause I want you to be happy!"

"I am happy!"

Shit, no! We're not supposed to be fighting! This was all supposed to be theoretical! A simple curiosity! The truth wasn't supposed to come out right now!

When I don't say anything back, mostly from fear I'll make things even worse with my awful track record when it comes to trying to explain myself, Elsa wraps her arms around herself and hunches over like I've come to see her do too many times.

She's scared. She's breaking down. She's closing in on herself.

Because of me.

Fuck me; I'm an awful person.

Then why do I keep talking?

"I don't think so, Elsa," I whisper, hesitantly making to approach her.

"I am happy…" she mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut.

"You're afraid to go out," I tell her. "Aside from that time we went to the park together, when was the last time you didn't try to blend into the crowd? I saw how many times you checked the people around us that day, Elsa; you can deny it if you want to, but I was watching. Eighteen times," I restate. "You checked to see if anyone had recognized you eighteen times that day. You feel the need to hide from people because you're trying to hide yourself. You're not comfortable with yourself. I want to help you regain that confidence. Prosthetic or no prosthetic, you need to feel comfortable in your own skin again."

"How the hell am I supposed to be comfortable being a freak?!" she shouts at me, the fire in her eyes halting me in my tracks.

"You're not a freak, Elsa," I say, keeping my voice soft in any attempt to soothe. "Not having a hand doesn't make you anything like that."

"How the fuck would you know?!" she snaps, closing her eyes once more. "You have all your limbs! You're perfect! Your life is fucking perfect! Don't tell me how mine is!"

I try not to be hurt by her words, but it's hard. My life is anything but perfect, but she has no way of knowing that. To her, this is all about her; and maybe it's better if she continues to think that in this moment. I don't need to try and one-up her here.

"I'm not trying to, Elsa," I continue to speak softly. I have her backed against one of the walls in her apartment, and she leans heavily on it, her arms still encircling her like a safety blanket. "There are other people out there who have missing limbs. They're not freaks, right?"

I see her shake her head slowly, eyes still clenched shut, tears running down her face, and I swallow a knot in my throat.

"So why are you?" I continue.

"B-Because…"

I'm right in front of her, hand a fraction of an inch from her shoulder when she lunges forward, irate once more.

"Because I just am, okay?!" She spins around and I can almost see the steam radiating from her body. "Why can't you leave it alone?"

"Because I care about you," I tell her firmly, and I see her flinch momentarily before her body stiffens once more.

"Well don't," she mumbles bitterly.

I sigh heavily as I realize I'm not getting anywhere. I'm dealing with the many different sides of Elsa again after thinking I had conquered them. It appears they were just lying dormant for the time being, and I have just woken them up again.

Remembering Milo's words from my session with him and figuring I have nothing else to lose at the moment, I take the plunge.

"Elsa?"

When she doesn't give any indication that she heard me, I take that as a sign to go ahead and continue.

"Have you ever considered talking with others who have lost their arm or leg? It might help-."

She turns on me then, and that fire I had caught briefly earlier is now a full, raging inferno.

"You think some shit group therapy will fix this?!" she shouts. "Those ignorant asses don't know what true pain is! They may have lost a limb—maybe even two—but I lost more and they can't even begin to understand my pain! I don't need their fake sympathy and I sure as hell don't want it!"

She's backing me up now, and I stumble over the leg of the coffee table as her tirade continues.

"Fuck my hand, Anna; I lost my fucking _parents_! You think they'll understand that? Do you?! You think they'll understand being stuck in an overturned car on fire and seeing your dad in the front seat and knowing he's dead?! You think they'll understand waking up from a coma and realizing not only did someone hack half their arm off, but their mom's dead too?! You think they'll understand having to bury your parents on your own with no trace of family left?! You think they'll understand being so fucking famous that if one fucking person finds out what happened, the whole world will come down on you with the snap of your fingers?! You think I want that, Anna? I'm struggling enough surviving as it is, you really want to make it worse?! Do you _want_ me to die?"

"No!" I cry out in a feeble attempt to stop her from going off the deep end, even though I know we've long since passed that opportunity. "No, Elsa, I just want to help!"

"_There is nothing you can do!_" she screams at me.

"If you would just let me try-!"

"_No!_"

She actually goes as far as _pushing me back_ with this expel, and I'm stunned. Never could I have predicted this would be how this would play out. Never could I… Never _would have I_ predicted Elsa would actually lay a hand on me.

"Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

"Elsa…" I whisper, my voice wavering considerably.

"_Get. __**Out!**_"

I see her left hand—her _good_ hand—clench into a tight fist and, heart breaking, tears identical to hers flooding down my cheeks, I turn tail and run from her place. The door slamming behind me echoes in my ears until I reach the stairwell, bypassing the elevator in favor to escape the distraught, heart-wrenching, gut-twisting scream that's now coming from Elsa's apartment.

Fourteen flights later, I exit the side door of the building in a haste I didn't know myself capable of before I'm crumbling to a sniveling heap on the ground. Luckily, I'm in the side alley, away from prying eyes as I scream and cry my eyes and heart out.

What the fuck have I done?

* * *

><p><strong>So… That happened…<strong>

***runs and hides***


	12. Chapter 11: Down for the Count?

**I know, I know; not only am I a horrible person for that last chapter and cliffhanger, but I'm also horrible for the monumental delay in getting this chapter out. The fact that it's short is also pretty horrible…**

**And I was on break too…**

**Anyway, school starts again on Wednesday, but since I seemed to be updating faster with it, that's hopefully a good thing.**

**Good news though: next chapter is Anna's first fight! Let's see how well I can write a boxing scene!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Down for the Count?<strong>

Somehow I manage to compose myself enough to stumble my way to Kristoff's; who I've learned thankfully only lives a few blocks away from Elsa. I'm sure I look a mess, wobbling on weak knees down a New York street, face red from tears, teeth chattering from sobbing, and stopping every now and then to lean heavily against a wall every time Elsa's chilling scream that chased me from her place echoes in my mind.

Luckily, I find Kristoff's building and ascend the stoop before I all but crash into his door in an attempt to knock. My body won't respond to commands and literally all I want to do is drop from the face of the planet right now.

Kristoff must have heard my pathetic _thump_ as the door is unlocked seconds later and I'm falling heavily into his surprised arms—Sven, the Rottweiler I mentioned, coming to sniff my form curiously.

"Anna!" he cries as I begin sobbing again. "Jesus, what happened?"

I open my mouth to answer him, but all that comes out are unintelligible hiccups and gasps. Burying my face in his hoodie both from embarrassment and shame, he's nice enough to not ask me again and instead scoop me into his arms and bring me inside.

He has me on his couch and underneath several layers of blankets, with a steaming cup of hot cocoa in my trembling hands before I can blink and then he's placing himself at the end of the couch away from me, gazing at me sadly.

Taking a cautious sip of the hot chocolate, I manage a small smile—'cause, I mean, it's hot chocolate—and I see Kristoff mimic my grin.

"I thought that would work," I hear him mumble.

"T-Thanks," I mutter, my voice scratchy and hoarse from tears.

Sitting on the arm of the couch, he leans forward a bit to engage me, Sven coming up to the couch and resting his head on my stomach.

"So," he begins almost hesitantly, "what happened?"

Staring down into my mug, I refuse to meet his eyes as I grind out, "I fucked up, Kristoff."

Had this situation been any different, I'm positive Kristoff's response would have been a smart quip such as "what else is new," but with the mess of a person on his couch before him, he realizes this isn't the time or place for jokes. Instead, he runs a hand through the mop of his unruly blond hair as he heaves a sigh.

"Want to be more specific?" he asks.

I set the mug of cocoa on the small table beside me and sit up to huddle further under the blankets.

"Remember Elsa?" I ask and see him nod quickly after. "Well, we had been becoming better friends. It was going so well, Kristoff, and now I've screwed everything up in a feeble, selfish attempt to help her."

"Help her with what?" he questions when I fall silent, choosing instead to pick at a loose thread before me.

Holding his gaze in a steady stare, I warn him silently that what he's about to hear, he can repeat to no one. His unwavering gaze back says he wouldn't dream of it.

"Elsa lost her right arm in a car accident," I whisper.

Kristoff's eyes bulge to the size of dinner plates before he seems to put everything together.

"So that's where she's been," he mumbles.

"Yeah," I mumble back. "She's been hiding the past fourteen months because of her loss. It's not just that, Kris; she lost both her parents in that accident as well."

"And she told you this?"

"We had come so far," I whine, my voice beginning to crack again as a rebel tear trails down my cheek. "She was helping me train for the boxing tournament, we were hanging out outside the gym, I got her to laugh and blush and crack jokes; it was all going so well."

I sniff before I close my eyes tight and grit my teeth. An image of Elsa the morning after the big reveal flashes in my mind's eye, dressed in that NYU shirt, a breath away from me, and seductive smirk plastered on her face.

"I think I was falling in love with her," I whisper before my head is on my knees and I'm crying again.

I feel more than hear Kristoff move from the arm of the couch to the cushion next to me before I'm pulled into his side.

"Hey," he whispers, lightly knocking his head against mine, "it's gonna be okay."

I sniff and look up at him. "Did you miss the part where I said I fucked everything up?"

He just smiles softly again and I have half a mind to smack that smile off his face.

"But I also heard the part where you said that you might be in love with her," he tells me.

"So?" I hiccup. "In love or not, I pissed her off. I fucked up, Kristoff; bad," I repeat, since he seems to be hard of hearing tonight. "I can't come back from this."

His smile falters for a bit as we both pet Sven.

"Well," he begins, "what did you do?"

"I don't know!" I cry, wrapping my arms around my knees and bringing them to my chest. "I mean, I _do_ know, but I don't know why it upset it her so much! All I asked was why she didn't want any kind of prosthetic. It was simple curiosity and she just went off on me. Then, I was like, okay, let's start off with something smaller, so I brought up group therapy; you know, like they do in AA meetings? But that just set her off even more!"

Hiccupping once more, I take comfort in Kristoff's hand rubbing circles on my back before I continue.

"You should have seen her, Kristoff," I whisper. "She…she _pushed_ me. She was backing me up and then she yelled at me to get out. She balled her good hand into a fist before I took off running. She was going to _hit_ me, Kristoff!"

"I don't think she would have, Anna," he says. "It was probably more of a threat."

"How would you know?" I grumble.

He chuckles softly before answering, "Because she was scared. I bet when you left she was mad not only with you, but with herself for how she treated you."

"I don't think so, Kristoff," I mutter, choosing to leave it at that pathetic quip and not bring up her haunting scream in fear I would keep reliving it the rest of the night.

"Still, it sounds like you had her best interests in mind," he tells me. "Perhaps she's just not ready for help."

I couldn't refrain from rolling my eyes. He was sounding just like Milo. I sure as hell didn't need two psychologists grilling me on this.

"But why?!" I shout, evoking new tears. "She's been living like this for fourteen _fucking_ months! And it's not like she's being very subtle about any of this at all! Every time we meet at the gym for training, she's watching me with this longing gaze because she can't box like that anymore. Every time I smile, I see her try to copy it, but it never reaches her eyes. God forbid I mention my parents by mistake, 'cause then it's like I personally shot her in the heart! She's dying inside Kristoff, but she won't let anyone in!"

We sit in silence for a moment while I continue to steam. Kristoff's hand has stilled on my back, and I shift it off me in order to curl into a tight ball against his side.

"Well," he trails off, "maybe tonight will help her realize she really _does_ need help."

When I look up at him with what I'm sure is doubt and uncertainty, he grins goofily before explaining.

"Maybe no one has offered her help since all this happened. You said she lost her parents, maybe she doesn't have anyone else."

_She doesn't_, I interrupt in my mind.

"Maybe no one's told her she can be more," he continues.

_Milo has when he mentioned a prosthetic._

"Even then, maybe it's never been anyone she thought cares enough about her to really mean it."

That causes me to think, no smart remark coming to my mind immediately. Somehow seeming to sense this, Kristoff looks down at me and smirks.

"Until you," he says.

I look away from him quickly as a blush takes over. I hear him chuckle before he ruffles my hair affectionately.

"I wouldn't worry about it, kiddo," he tells me. "To me, she just sounds scared. She's never had someone like you in her life beside her parents, who, for the past fourteen months, she's been trying to tell herself she has to live without now. She's having to adjust to a completely different way of life. You have to admit that can be pretty damn frightening."

"So what do I do?" I ask. "The tournament's in…" I stop to think, and immediately my stomach sinks in both dread and fear. "Two weeks, Kristoff! Shit, what am I going to do without her?"

"Anna!" he cries, his hands holding me down to prevent me from jumping up from the couch in what's sure to be a frantic pace. "One thing at a time!"

Great, as if I didn't have enough shit on my shoulders, the damn tournament is right around the corner?! How did I lose track of that? How did Elsa fail to mention that during our last meeting?

"This is no time to be calm, Kristoff!" I yelp at him, breaking free of his hold and springing out from under the blankets to stand upright, rigid with fear. "Not only was Elsa my friend, but she was my trainer too! Now I don't have anyone to help me prepare for the tournament!"

"I can help," he pipes up. "I may not know the technicalities of the sport, but you've used me as a punching bag enough in our childhood that I think I have the gist of it."

A smile flickers across my face at his jab, before I sit back down on his couch with a huff. My hands come up to rub at my face wearily.

"Even then, how do I fix this with Elsa?" I question more to myself, my voice muffled by my hands.

"You'll think of something," Kristoff tells me before he's standing and situating me so I'm laying down once more. "But right now, you need to sleep. You're exhausted and look horrible, and I'm not letting you get anywhere c_lose_ to a subway station this time of night and in the state you're in."

I know I should have thanked him for looking out for me like he's always done, but at this moment, sleep sounds _fantastic_ and I'm closing my eyes before I know it.

The last thing I see is Kristoff's warm smile, and the last thing I hear is his gentle voice.

"_You'll be okay, Anna."_


	13. Chapter 12: Tape Up the Wrists

**Chapter Twelve: Tape Up the Wrists**

Needless to say, the two weeks leading up to the tournament passed by without much in the way of mending the rift between me and Elsa. I tried my best to give her space that first week, putting my optimism to work in the hopes that she would contact me first, but I suppose that was just wishful thinking. After a week, there was no word, and my optimism quickly deflated.

So, again, needless to say, regarding my stubborn streak, I started texting and calling her.

Two very apologetic voicemails and ten texts later, I found myself once again griping to Kristoff at the gym.

"I mean, the least she can do is send me a quick text telling me to leave her alone!" I grind out while dishing out a few punches to the mitts Kristoff is wearing. "Then, you know, at the very least I'd know she's still alive!"

Kristoff chuckles briefly before a forceful punch from me has him stumbling backwards.

"She's not dead, silly."

I shoot him a glare, taking the time to wipe sweat from my brow.

"How the hell would you know?" Letting my anger die away for a bit, I begin to fret. "I mean, she's probably depressed from the entire incident, you don't think she could be suicidal? Shit, Kristoff, what if our fight led her to kill herself?!"

"Anna!" he shouts, casting the mitts aside to grab my shoulders and give me a good shake. "She's alive, okay? I know because I paid her a visit the other day, alright? She asked me to keep it from you, but I can't if you're gonna freak like this and send the cops to her place thinking she's done herself in!"

I gape at him for a moment before I hit him across the face.

"You _talked_ to her and didn't tell me?!"

"She told me not to!" he shoots back. "Damn it, Anna, weren't you listening?" Huffing, he sits down on a ledge by the window. "I went to her place to check up on her and apologize on your behalf."

"How was she? Did she say anything about me? And how the hell did you even know where she lived?" I fire at him.

"She seemed okay, all things considered," he responds, rubbing the back of his neck. "Eyes were a bit red, but whether that was from tears or lack of sleep I don't know. She told me she's at war with herself over you." With that, he looks at me and quirks a smile at my hopeless face. "I was right, you know," he says, "about how she felt the night of the fight. She was angry with herself for how she treated you, and she really regrets kicking you out like she did. She also wants to apologize for pushing you and threatening to hurt you."

"But…?" I prod, knowing I'm not off the hook that easy.

"_But_," he stresses, "she's still angry with you; livid, even, sometimes, she told me. She's at war with herself, Anna, over what to think. Part of her knows you were right and that it's time for her to stop grieving and get back on her feet, but the majority of her still believes it's not possible."

"But she's not going to be alone!" I cry out. "I've told her over and over that I won't desert her!"

"She still doesn't know you that well, Anna," Kristoff tells me gently. "It's hard to put as much trust as is needed in this situation in someone you barely know."

"But we've known each other months!"

"And for some people, that's not very long at all," he defends her. "You're an extrovert. You meet someone and can be best friends with them the very next day. It's a good trait to have most of time, but sometimes it does get you in trouble, you have to admit."

"_Don't_ bring up eighth grade," I basically growl, cutting him off.

He raises his hands, but has a grin plastered to his face at the same time.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" he quips.

"Shut up," I grumble, shoving him slightly. "Go on."

"You're an extrovert, but Elsa's an introvert," he continues. "For her, friends don't come easy; trust even more so. Months may seem like a long time to you, Anna, but to her? That's nothing. Especially given what she's been through the past year. And being somewhat of a celebrity on top of that? I'm sure having to deal with the paparazzi makes you more leery of people."

"Okay, good reasons," I huff, "but you still haven't answered my last question. How did you know where she lives?"

He flushes and looks away.

"I may have looked through your text messages and saw her address there," he mumbles quickly before ducking and covering his head with his hands, knowing a blow is sure to come.

But, to keep him on his toes, I explode verbally instead.

"You snooped through my phone?!" I scream, jumping up from my place on the ledge. I really do have to hold everything back to keep from hitting him. Damn that stupid, immature jerk!

"Well, it's not like you were going to tell me if I asked, right?" he cries out in defense. "Look, I'm just trying to help both of you, okay? You were so happy, and from how Elsa's dealing with everything, it's clear she was really happy too. She _wants_ to forgive you, Anna; really, she does. Just…give her more time, alright?"

I had given her two weeks already and was at the end of my rope, but I knew deep down that I would continue to hold out even if it took another year. I had known what I was getting myself into once I found out her secret and was bombarded with the desire to help. I knew things were about to turn ugly that day in Milo's office, and I knew I was digging my own grave when I provoked Elsa the night of our fight.

My optimism might have been slowly fading, but my promise to Elsa…?

Not a chance.

XxXxX

It was the night before the boxing tournament and I find myself riding the elevator to the fourteenth floor of Elsa's apartment, bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates in my hands.

Was it cliché? Yes.

Was I expecting this gesture to get me out of trouble with Elsa instantaneously? Hell no.

Was this gesture coming from the heart nonetheless?

Definitely.

The elevator dings and I step out timidly, taking my time walking down the hallway. I'm rehearsing the speech and apology I had come up with while lying in bed last night, although I know the words would desert me the moment I open my mouth. That's how it always is with me; no amount of practice is going to change that, it seems.

Especially when Elsa's involved.

My feet come to a stop and I look up with a gulp, my eyes darting to the plaque with the numbers 1403 on it. Hand shaking, I knock the rhythm I had adopted as my own long ago. Hopefully, Elsa will recognize it from before and know it's me.

When I don't hear any footsteps on the other side, my heart rate picks up.

"Elsa?" I call out softly. "It's me, Anna."

The silence remains.

I knock again. "Elsa, please let me in," I call out. "I want to apologize. And you honestly left me no choice when you didn't return my calls or texts."

I hear a few soft footsteps approach, but the door remains locked and closed.

"I know you're in there, Elsa," I tell her. "I heard you approach. Open the door, please?"

A beat.

"I brought flowers and chocolates!"

The silence still lingers.

I heave a sigh and hang my head, my teeth immediately going to gnaw on my bottom lip. Surely Elsa is listening, right? I mean, I swear I heard footsteps; she must be literally right on the other side of the door. I know she can hear me.

But she's still not letting me in.

That thought hurts more than the failure to return any text or call ever could.

"Elsa, I'm so, so sorry," I begin, deciding to go ahead and deliver my speech to the closed door. No matter how silly I feel doing so, the fact that Elsa can still hear me and I don't have to face her directly gives me some comfort. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest. I didn't mean for that night to turn out the way it did.

"Elsa, Kristoff told me he's visited you. I know you didn't want me to know that, but he cracked because I was freaking out after not hearing from you. I know you're mad at me—and with good reason—but I was so scared, Elsa," I continue, trying to keep my voice from wavering. I have to remain strong. I don't want to break down to a door; that's just embarrassing, right?

"You couldn't have just sent me a simple text telling me you hadn't forgiven me yet? I thought you had hurt yourself, Elsa! I was worried you might commit suicide!" I stop to catch my breath briefly, my hand clenching into a fist against the wood before me, having dropped the box of chocolates to the ground long ago.

"It was a silly thought, maybe, and I'm not trying to say I think you _are_ suicidal or anything, but can you blame me for worrying? I mean, last I saw of you, you were crying and distraught. Suicidal tendencies or not, a situation like that could have easily led to self-harm.

"I meant what I said that night, Elsa: I care a lot about you. Maybe I shouldn't so much yet, since we haven't known each other long, but I can't help it. I get attached to things easily, and people even more so. You're my friend, Elsa, and we were so happy." I pause, and my heart sinks to my stomach. "You were happy too, right, Elsa?"

Looking up, I see the peephole on the door, and I can only wonder if Elsa's watching. I feel a tear trail down my cheek and am quick to wipe it away.

Stay. _Strong!_

"I care about you, Elsa," I restate, wanting her to at least take that statement away from this one-sided conversation if she doesn't anything else. "I care about you and that's why I'm not going to give up on you, even if you've already given up on yourself. If you're not going to open the door, then I'm going to say what I said that night again.

"I don't want this to sound as bad as it does, Elsa, but there's no other way to put it: you need help. You need help and I want to be the one to be by your side. I'm willing to do that. I've seen the sparkle in your eyes; the way your face lights up for brief moments of time. You're capable of happiness, Elsa. I know things can never truly return to the way they were, but you can't deny that they could still increase tremendously."

I take time to prop the flowers and box of chocolates up against her door, mentally preparing myself for what I'm about to say. I truly hate to play this card, but if I was in her boat, it would be something I'd want to hear.

"Your parents wouldn't want this for you, Elsa," I say firmly, closing my eyes and tightening my hands to fists as the words leave me. "I know; who am I to judge, right? But, the fact that you didn't break down this door in an irate fury means that you know there's some truth to my statement. Think of boxing, if anything. I see the pain in your gaze while you've been training me. I know how much you miss the sport. You were _so_ good, Elsa, and you loved it so much; are you really willing to give it up for the rest of your life?"

I run a hand through my hair as I avert my gaze back to the peephole.

"You still have so much you can accomplish, Elsa. Screw _one_ gold medal, you could win _ten_! Maybe the medals aren't what you want so much, but missing out on the chance to compete regardless? To improve exponentially though the years? To simply just take part in the Olympics again and again? That's not something I would want to pass up."

Biting my lip once more, I look down at the floor.

"Look," I sigh, "I don't want to sound condescending or anything, although I'm sure I do, and for that I'm sorry, but I just needed to get all this off my chest." Looking up at the door once again, I continue, "Regardless of what you choose, I won't give up on you, Elsa. I'll continue caring about you no matter what. You're one in a million, Elsa, and I'm not going to simply cast you aside, as an Olympic boxer or a friend." I smile, knowing she can see it on the other side. "I told you earlier you wouldn't get rid of me that easily, but I also told you that you would come to see that as a good thing. I may have done a pretty crap job of that recently, but I swear I can make up for it. I won't mention anything about your accident again if it means you'll keep me around. Please, Elsa. I'm not giving up on you, but you can't give up on me either."

Knowing I'm at the end of my spiel, I fall quiet for a moment. Swaying back and forth on the balls of my feet, I glance down once more to my gifts.

"The tournament's tomorrow, you know," I tell her. "I think I'm ready. Kristoff's been helping me train these past two weeks, and he's been a pretty decent tutor despite not knowing the first thing about boxing." I take the time to chuckle before I'm clearing my throat. "I hope you'll come tomorrow night, Elsa, or at the very least be cheering for me in spirit. The fights are all being broadcasted on the local stations here.

"Anyway," I heave another sigh, "I've said all I needed to say, and I'm not too keen on one of your neighbors walking out to see me standing here talking to a door, despite the fact that you and I know what's really going on. So, yeah… The chocolates and flowers are leaning against your door." I wring my hands together for a moment before looking back to the peephole once more and whispering, "Good night, Elsa."

With that, I take my leave, and I wouldn't find out until much later that Elsa had heard every word I had uttered, sitting against the door, smiling at times and crying at others, truly taking everything I had said to heart.

I would also find out much later that she would open her door to retrieve the presents I brought her, bringing the flowers to her face to inhale their scent, the biggest smile you could imagine present on her face and eyes shimmering with love.

XxXxX

"Woah."

Kristoff and I had just emerged from the subway station, and I found myself frozen, staring at the incredibly large, brightly lit building before us.

"Yeah," Kristoff says with a chuckle. "Probably what my first word was first time I got this close."

He grabs my arm and starts dragging me across the street while I'm still in a trance.

"It's so…big," I mumble.

I hear the blond beside me snort as he retorts, "Probably because it's freaking Madison Square Garden and not the itty-bitty KFC Yum! Center like you're used to."

"Yeah," I mutter. "I bet three Yum! Centers could fit inside this place."

We enter the Garden with no trouble and find our way to check-in for the tournament with little hassle. Despite my stomach churning in anxiety, I'm also completely pumped for tonight. I mean, this is my first tournament outside of Kentucky! Not only that, I'm in freaking New York City! Madison Square Garden! A boxing tournament! A competition where I don't have to share any trophy or medal or win with a school!

Yeah, you get the point. This was a big fucking deal.

"I'm going to go sign in," I tell Kristoff. "Mind watching my stuff?"

He nods and I take off to the tables in a near mad dash.

"Hello," a bulky bald man grumbles. "You competing?"

"Yup!" I exclaim. "Anna Summers!"

Baldy—since he wasn't wearing any kind of identification, I've dubbed him—flips through a few sheets of paper before taking a highlighter and marking something out.

"Size?" he asks me.

"What?"

He rolls his eyes and huffs. "What size gloves do you need?" he restates.

"Oh!" I blush. "Uh, small, I guess, please."

I'm handed a pair of gloves and told to go to the Home locker room before I'm skipping back to Kristoff.

"All good to go?" he asks, hefting my duffle bag onto his shoulder.

I nod.

"Do you think you need to sign in too?" I ask. "Since you're my substitute trainer?"

"'Substitute' trainer?" he questions with a small laugh. "I feel so demoted."

"Shut up, you know I'm grateful."

Kristoff walks over to Baldy while I'm left waiting this time and comes back minutes later wearing a lanyard with a tag that reads _Trainer_ with a sticker of my name underneath.

"Boy, that guy was a real ray of sunshine," he grumbles as we make our way through the mass of people to our designated locker room.

"Baldy? Yeah, he must really love his job."

We share a laugh, and for a moment the fact that I'm entered in a boxing tournament leaves me completely—a rookie tournament, but a tournament nonetheless.

Needless to say, upon walking into the locker room and seeing my fellow competitors gearing up and practicing with their trainers on the countless bags spread throughout the room, I remember why I'm really here.

And then my nerves take over.

"Holy shit, Kristoff," I whisper frantically. "I can't do this."

The big oaf just rolls his eyes at me and pushes me further in the room.

"Of course you can do this, Red," he tells me. "You've basically been training all your life for this. Not to mention your impressive record back home."

"That was high school," I say, my optimism seeming to have chosen the _best_ time to desert me. "This is…_not_ high school."

Kristoff scoffs which turns into a chuckle. "Clever deduction there, Watson."

I'm standing in front of a locker and probably supposed to start changing and warming up, but instead I'm just staring ahead blankly and observing the royal blue paint that's peeling from the lockers before me.

"Anna," Kristoff says, and I feel the comfort of his hands on my shoulders. His voice takes on a serious, calming tone. "You can do this, okay? You're ready, alright? You've had one of the best trainers out there and one hell of a punching bag these past couple weeks. You've got a leg up on everyone here."

My hands are in fists and my eyes are clenched shut as Kristoff spins me around.

"Hey," he soothes, pulling me into a hug. "What's up?"

"Do you think she'll be here?" I whisper, my voice cracking as I feel damn tears welling in my eyes.

I see the sympathy in Kristoff's chocolate orbs as I pull away from him.

"At the very least, I know she's watching at home," he tells me.

"Will you text her?" I ask. "I… I-I can't do this unless I know she's watching. Sh-She got me here; I couldn't have done this without her."

"Yes you could have," Kristoff retorts with a sly smile, "you just wouldn't have as good of odds as you do." His smile softens as he pulls his cell from his pocket. "But I'll text her. You get changed, okay? I'll be right here."

I nod somewhat numbly as I take my change of clothes from my bag and retreat to a stall, using all my willpower to refrain from crying. I need to toughen the fuck up. So what if Elsa doesn't come? It's not like I was expecting her to. Last night I had been perfectly fine with that fact.

Although last night I also had my little friend Optimism to help me out, and there's still no sign of him.

Shit, I grumble internally as I pull on my sports bra; I'm giving a gender to a mental attitude and referring to it as a friend. If I don't get my head in the game, I'm surely fucked.

"Get it together, Anna," I whisper to myself, rubbing my eyes with vigor and slapping my cheeks lightly. "You've been dreaming of this opportunity since middle school, don't fuck it up because you can't stop thinking about a _girl_. You can't do anything about it here and now. Just focus on the task at hand. Go out there, kick ass, win a trophy or a medal or whatever the hell they're handing out here, and go to Elsa's and show it off. Make her proud and then maybe she'll be more inclined to let you back into your life. But none of that's going to happen if you don't _focus_. Game time, girl."

Okay, so maybe not my best self-pep-talk, but it seems to have worked as I leave the stall hardened and determined.

"She answered," Kristoff tells me upon my return. "Says she already has it on the TV. She has full confidence in you, Anna."

I quirk a smile but don't let my thoughts run with his words any more than the simple acknowledgement. Although the warmth that settles in my stomach is calming and reassuring.

"Can you help me tape my wrists?" I ask.

Kristoff blinks at my sudden change in demeanor, but knows I can get weird before a fight so he lets it slide and takes the roll of gauze from my duffel. I take it from it and wrap up my left hand myself before handing it back to him and stretching out my right.

"You need any more words of encouragement, or did you take care of that in the stall?" he asks me, his gaze on the task at hand.

"I think I'm good," I tell him, and actually with a hint of confidence in my voice. "Don't want to get my head too full of air, right?"

He looks up and smirks. "Right."

Once he's finished, I put the gloves on and adjust them so they're on tight. Sighing, I turn to a nearby mirror and take in my appearance.

"You look like a pro, Red," Kristoff says.

I smile and see him mirror it over my shoulder.

"Give it a few minutes, and I'll hopefully feel like a pro too."

"Wanna go warm up on the bags?" he asks. "It seems like that's what everyone else is doing." His eyes scan the room before he shrugs and adds, "That, or they're praying."

"Well, I don't pray, so let's go punch something."

An hour later, I'm sufficiently warmed up—as well as pumped up, my optimism having faithfully returned to me right on time—as the loudspeaker out in the arena can be heard.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a man's voice echoes through the stadium, drifting into the locker room, where all of us are staring up at the ceiling like the voice is God himself. "Welcome to New York City's annual Rookie Boxing Tournament!"

There's a bout of cheering and applause before it dies down enough for the announcer to continue. "The bracket for tonight's tournament has been selected and we're just about ready to start here in the Garden! The atmosphere is crazy here, and for all of you joining us at home, I hope you're as equally pumped. Let's give it up for these rookies ready to show us what they've got, huh?"

Another cry of approval and the announcer goes on to some other spiel. I tune him out, however, as Kristoff alerts me that the bracket has been posted on the small television screens throughout the locker room. Shuffling over to one, I look up and immediately start looking for my name.

Finding it, I inhale sharply.

If this all seemed like a dream until now, seeing my name up there solidifies the fact that this is really, truly real.

I'm in the fourth of eight fights. I examine the name next to mine, the name of the person I'm to be fighting, and try to picture them in my mind like I always used to do in high school.

_Aurora Rose_.

Blonde, definitely, is my initial thought. I reread the name and hum quietly to myself. Had I not been standing in the middle of a boxing tournament, my first guess would have been that this girl was a cheerleader, not a boxer. Don't ask me why, but the name "Aurora" just gives off the popular-girl vibe; the kind that goes hand in hand with a cheerleader.

But, whatever; it's not like Anna Summers screams "boxer" either.

"Aurora, huh?" Kristoff speaks up, and it's only then I realize he had come up beside me. "Sounds easy enough."

"Yeah," I agree. "She's a cheerleader, what's she doing here?"

Kristoff grins, immediately jumping into the game.

"She must have gotten lost on the way to the cheerleading expo," he adds.

I snort and chuckle, and hear Kristoff do similarly next to me. Our game is cut short, however, when a horn trills from out in the stadium and Mr Announcer comes back on.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come! You ready?"

There's a pause for drastic effect and the crowd grows silent before the entirety of Madison Square Garden, along with the announcer, scream, "_Let's get ready to rumble!_"

Then a bell dings, and the tournament officially begins.

* * *

><p><strong>So I lied; no fight yet. Apologies, but I'm actually really scared to write it since I've never really paid attention to the sport much before. I want to do a good job, however, so I will be taking my time with the next chapter and doing my research. <strong>

**On that note, any fellow boxers reading this who wants to give their input, I'd greatly appreciate it. I want to do your sport justice.**

**On the other hand, guys, I can't get over the attention this story is getting. I'm only a few followers away from breaking a record (which belongs to Belonging at the moment) and I have even had fan art drawn for this story. I have never had fan art for ANY of my stories before, so that's a big f-ing deal to me. So, thank you all from the bottom of my little heart. You all are great and amazing, and I love you all.**

**That doesn't mean you can get lazy on me, though! ;)**


	14. Chapter 13: Get Ready to Rumble

**So when I said I was afraid to write this chapter, I didn't necessarily mean I was scared enough to put it off for two weeks… Apologies, time just got away from me. Plus, I'm taking a creative writing class this semester so I've been having to focus on those, since, you know, they're for a**_** grade**_**. ;)**

**Anyway, here's the rookie tournament! Hopefully I got the gist of the structure and fighting right. I worked hard on this, I really did. Thank you to all who helped out!**

**Please fave, follow, and review!**

**EDIT 2/1: _Why_ didn't anyone point out all the spelling/grammar mistakes to me? ;) Seriously, this chapter was horrendous!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Ready to Rumble<strong>

"You still doing okay there, Red?"

Blinking, I come out of the trance I had been sitting in for the past thirty minutes and look up at Kristoff. He notices my far off look and smiles softly.

"Where did you go?" he asks.

Where _did_ I go? I'm privy to spacing out like this before fights—and even other big events like my speech at high school graduation—but I never seem to remember exactly what happens when I do. It's just like I get sucked in to this black void. Usually, and to most, that might seem frightening, but I've come to realize it's the most peaceful feeling ever. I kind of just drift, like I'm floating through the endless vacuum of space, and all the worries on my mind vanish.

Yeah, it's weird, and _maybe_ I should check with a doctor to make sure this spacing out still falls in the realm of "normal," but I can't deny that I come back feeling immensely calmed.

"I never know," I eventually tell him.

"Was Elsa there?" he questions with a grin.

I match his grin softly and look back down at the floor.

"I don't know," I respond. "If she was, everything was okay between us again."

"Well, maybe that's a sign that everything _will_ be okay," Kristoff adds. "Maybe these space outs are a kind of premonition; that's why you always come back subdued and refreshed: you know everything's gonna be okay."

"That's some deep shit, Kristoff, coming from you," I quip.

He shoves me and we share a quick laugh before he hands me my water bottle.

"Already?" I ask.

He nods. "You're next, kiddo. The match out there is in its third round and the dude is getting absolutely demolished."

Chuckling, I look up at the television screen to indeed find just that. Since boys and girls can't box against each other, every other round switches genders. Three matches in and there had been one match between girls and two matches between boys. I would be making up the second match of girls. Obviously, you moved on up to fight your own gender, so there were technically eight rounds for each sex—sixteen matches all together—and two winners: one male and one female.

I had every intention on being the winner on the girl's side.

Had I not spaced out, I probably should have spent my time observing the other fights, especially the other one between girls, in order to get a feel for further competition. Now, I was basically going in blind, but it's not like I had never done that before anyway.

And besides, this was a rookie tournament; and if the match happening right now was anything to go by, I was in good shape. This poor blonde-haired kid is getting completely destroyed by his competitor.

Suddenly I'm thankful for gender barriers.

The bell dings as Blondie crumples and the referee holds up this big, raven-haired boy's arm in the air, declaring him the victor. I hear the crowd erupt into cheers from outside and know I'm seconds away from my big moment.

"Up next," the announcer speaks up as the two boys are ushered—and in Blondie's case, helped—out of the ring, "for the girls, Aurora Rose and Anna Summers!"

I feel the weight of Kristoff's hand on my shoulder and I swallow an unbidden knot in my throat. Tightening my gloves for the final time, I make to stand up. I can feel everyone's eyes on me as Kristoff and I approach the doors that lead to the arena. Glancing at several, they either nod or quirk a smile, I suppose sending their own form of encouragement, and perhaps hoping they'll see me on the other side.

A security guard opens the doors for us and I'm immediately blinded by all the camera flashes going off as I take one step from the locker room. Keeping my eyes on the floor to avoid being blinded, I follow the path up to the ring.

My heart is beating a mile a minute at this point, and I'm only vaguely aware that the announcer is introducing Aurora and me. Apparently this Aurora chick is all the way from Nebraska.

Weird.

"Also introducing Anna Summers of Louisville, Kentucky!" the announcer moves on to say.

A roar of cheers rushes to my ears and I look beyond the lights of the ring to audience. They're…clapping, and cheering… All for me?

I turn to look at Kristoff who is smiling smugly as camera flashes continue going off all around us.

"Are they applauding for me?" I ask.

"Well, you are Anna Summers, right?" he asks with a grin. "Be kinda awkward if you weren't. Anna Summers is the only boxer I know."

As he watches me continue to take in the sights and sounds around me, he quirks his head curiously.

"People have cheered you on before, you know," he says.

"Yeah, but never…at this scale," I reply, surprised he can actually hear me over the rumble of the arena. "I just can't get over it."

"Well, you better, seeing as the fight's about to start."

Shit! He's right. Come on, Anna you're used to this kind of setting; you've competed in countless tournaments before, and while they may not have been of this caliber, if you continue thinking like this, it's gonna distract you from the main thing: the fight!

Letting out a slow breath, I level my eyes on my opponent on the opposite side of the ring. I find some relief in the fact that Aurora seems even more nervous than me. An older lady is busy consoling her from outside the ring while a younger man more her age seems to be helping her stretch.

"I can do this," I mumble.

Looking around once more, I see a countless number of cameras being manned from up in the rafters. Knowing Elsa is watching at this moment from one of those lenses, I smile—which I hope comes off confidently and not terrified—and give a subtle nod of my head.

"I _can_ do this."

A bell dings again and I spin to face Aurora from my designated corner. Both glancing from each other to the ref in the center, we wait for his signal.

Then, a whistle blows, he raises his hand, and the crowd cries out. Match one: begin.

I let out a final breath before I approach the center of the ring slowly, observing my opponent the entire time. Aurora begins to circle me and I know we're still testing the waters, trying to get a feel for each other.

I've never been very good with patience, not to mention my nerves on fire simply want this match over with, so I find myself lunging towards Aurora sooner than I probably should have. I lash out with a quick jab which she blocks—although I note she did seem startled by my speed, which I store for later—before I'm backing up quickly to shield myself.

Soon, I'm completely unaware to what's going on outside the ring. The audience dissipates into the blackness of the arena, and their cheers and applause are drowned out by the thump of my heart. All I know is that it's me and Aurora in this ring, and I'm only vaguely aware of the ref keeping a careful eye on us.

Aurora moves first next, but I easily block her punch; I honestly saw it coming a mile away. Her footwork is sloppy and my confidence is slowly on the rise. Smirking somewhat, I approach again, feinting a jab to her shoulder which she raises her fists to block, but then at the last second I slide to the side, duck, and land a hard punch to her side. She's immediately doubling over and I let out a squeal inside my head.

I hit her!

It's all downhill for Aurora from then on. Fifteen minutes later and the referee is hefting my arm in the air, declaring me the winner as Aurora looks on dejectedly from her corner, her male companion holding an ice pack to her busted lip.

"You did it, Anna!" Kristoff yells in elation, lifting me into the air when I reach him. "You won!"

I'm almost too speechless to speak, so instead I simply laugh as he spins me around, basking in the joy and thrill of it all for the time being. I know I have a lot more ahead of me, but for right now, I'm perfectly content with what I've just accomplished.

The fact the Elsa isn't here to join in the celebration doesn't even cross my mind during my high.

XxXxX

"Well, folks," the announcer calls for everyone's attention, "the boy's winner has been decided! Let's all give a round of applause for this year's rookie male Champion, Simba Pride!"

I hear the crowd break out into shouts, whistles and cheers once more and I divert my attention from Kristoff, who's busy wrapping my leg in a bandage, to the television once again.

"Can you walk, Red?" he asks once he's finished.

Standing up tentatively, I test out my left ankle. I had sprained it slightly in my second match after jumping back to avoid being hit and landing awkwardly. It's throbbing a little as I bounce lightly back and forth on my feet, but I know once I'm out there again, the adrenaline will take over and I won't even feel it.

"Yup, I'm good," I tell him. "Can barely feel it."

"Well, just make sure you ice it later tonight," he says. "God only know how sore it's going to be after this last match."

"Jasmine…Agrabah, right?" I ask, looking to the small picture now beside my name on the bracket.

Kristoff nods behind me and adds, "She looks pretty tough. She's fast like you, and maybe even faster, seeing as her first two opponents only managed to land three hits on her combined."

"That's just 'cause she hasn't fought me yet," I chuckle. "I'll hit her. I'll make sure I do."

"Just be careful, okay, Anna?" I shoot him a look, but he grasps my wrist and squeezes it gently, expressing his concern. "I know neither of us want to admit it, but that last match hurt you a lot. Your ankle, probably a couple of your ribs, not to mention your right eye is beginning to swell. You_ can_ see, right?"

Come to mention it, my right eye was watering quite a bit, but I wasn't about to say anything for fear Kristoff would make me throw in the towel. He had always been too concerned for my safety whenever I fought, and while I appreciated it immensely, boxing was a rough sport. It was expected to get beat up in a tournament. That didn't mean I could just back down the first injury I got. I wouldn't get anywhere that way.

"I've fought through worse," I tell him with a shrug. "Besides," I grin, "who are you to tell me to be careful, Mr Ice Hockey?"

He rolls his eyes and laughs. "At least in hockey we're padded up pretty tight. You're half-naked."

I blush scarlet. "I am _not_!" I cry indignantly. "This is how you dress in the sport, pervert!"

"Whatever," he chuckles. "Doesn't mean I can't worry."

A horn sounds, the very same one they used before the boys' finale, and I know my break is up. This is the fight to decide it all. And, despite the hell Kristoff says I look like, I feel one hundred percent ready.

Three rounds in and I don't really feel like it anymore…

"Come on, Anna!" I hear Kristoff call from my corner outside the ring. "You got this!"

I'm on one knee as I wipe some blood from my lip, feeling some of it reach my tongue through my mouth guard. Grimacing, I have no chance but to swallow, the metallic taste almost bitter as it goes down.

Jasmine and I are currently neck and neck with each other, although since I'm the one halfway down at the moment, she has the current upper hand. I don't let that deter me though, as I have found through experience that I fight even better when backed into a figurative corner.

I had known the minute I stepped onto the ring and saw Jasmine standing in her corner that this match would be tough. She was a dark-skinned, extremely fit girl, probably older than me, but younger than Elsa. Her jet-black hair was tied back in a thick braid and the glint in her eyes as we observed each other told me she was a hell of a fighter. The muscles in my body now currently screaming out in pain affirmed that.

Still, I held my ground, got in hits when I could, and defended myself to the best of my ability. She had won the first round, but I came roaring back with a quick KO in the second.

Standing back on two feet, I waver for a moment before steadying myself. My gaze is a bit hazy as I try and focus on the girl before me, who is waiting for me to get up, bouncing on the balls of her feet, fists raised, eyes blazing. The good news, however, is that I can see a bruise beginning to form on one of her arms, so I know her moves are going to be hindered at least somewhat from here on out.

I shake my head so my braids are back behind me and wipe my lip once more. I'm ready again.

Circling each other once more, I glance to Kristoff outside the ring and with a blink, suddenly Elsa is there beside him. My eyes widen imperceptibly when I see her, and I know all the hits I've taken are sure to be the culprit. Still, she doesn't disappear with several more blinks and I begin to think that maybe I've already lost the fight and am currently unconscious.

Thankfully, Jasmine snaps me out of it as she jumps forward, swinging for my chest. I jump back just in time, but my eyes travel back to my corner instead of her. Elsa's still there. Her eyes are hardened as they watch me, but I can see a soft smile on her face as she nods.

Gulping, I nod quickly back. With another blink, she disappears and I come back to the fight.

I don't know what the hell that just was, but now I know for certain that Elsa has been watching me since the beginning. She's rooting for me and I can't let her down.

This win is for Elsa.

With a cry, I charge towards Jasmine hoping to look completely unorganized to make her think I've lost it. Luckily, my distraction works as her eyes widen at my approach and she raises her fists to block her face, what I appear to be going for.

Then, just like with Aurora, I slide to the right, duck and jab, and Jasmine stumbles as I land another hit to her side. I don't let up there though, bouncing back briefly, I send out a swift, quick combo Elsa taught me, missing the first punch on accident, but landing the second on her opposite side. Smiling through my mouth guard, I think to myself that I have just taken the upper hand. Jasmine stands back up grimacing, and I can see the exhaustion in her eyes. Mine are still ablaze with energy though, renewed with vigor from the apparition of Elsa.

I circle Jasmine quickly now, looking for a good spot for a hard, final hit. She tries to keep up with me, eyes carefully trained on my fists, but I'm hoping with some speed I've been holding onto, I can win this here and now.

This time feinting for her sides, she reaches down to block, giving me the perfect opportunity to go in with my left and land a punch to her shoulder. She falls to the ground, and after seconds of failing to get up, the whistle blows.

I lower my hands and they fall heavily to my side. I've just done it. My first tournament and I've won. People are getting to their feet in their seats applauding me for a job well done, and congratulating Jasmine on a hard-fought fight. Flashes continue to go off around me, yet the only thing I can focus on is the new apparition of Elsa in front of me, grinning broadly and eyes swimming with pride. I smile back for only a second, before my legs give out and I'm crumbling to the floor.

Luckily, Kristoff is there to catch me, and he helps me remain standing as the announcer comes to the center of the ring with a medal, certificate, and a check.

Standing before me, he beams as he hangs the medal around my neck, hands the certificate to Kristoff, and hands me the other end of the overly-large check—which, I notice with a big grin, is written out to me for five hundred fucking dollars. Kristoff and I are grinning like idiots as we wave to the crowd. I can just barely hear the announcer congratulating me as well as the judges as they come up into the ring as well. As if on autopilot, or like some kind of robot, I routinely shake each other their hands, smiling and nodding, giving my thanks where appropriate.

I'm aware of all of this, but the entire time there's this loud, incessant buzzing in my ears and I can feel my heart beating more than I probably should. I would be alarmed by my body acting like this, but it happened once before so I know what's coming. Heading back into the locker room, I lean on Kristoff.

"Kris," I rasp, "I'm about to faint."

And then I do.

XxXxX

I come to an hour later to find a now empty locker room. Lifting myself from one of the benches, I see I have been resting on a pile of fresh towels. Despite how uncomfortable that may sound, it had felt like a bunch of fluffy clouds in my unconscious state.

"Kristoff?"

The pounding of footsteps alerts me to the blond's presence before I actually see him. He rounds a row of lockers and sighs when he sees I'm awake and alert.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I told you I would be," I tell him smartly.

He rolls his eyes. "Says the girl who just fainted."

"After winning a fucking boxing tournament," I add on. "That's worth mentioning, is it not?"

He shrugs as if my recent feat was nothing and I throw a towel at him in response. Laughing, he approaches to help me up.

"Come on," he says, "somebody wants to talk to you, and the cleanup guys would like to start their job."

Raising an eyebrow at him curiously, I allow him to help me out. Grabbing my duffel bag and passing a few more guards—who, I note with a grin, nod and smile at me and my medal as we pass—Kristoff and I make our way to the lobby, where this mysterious person wants to talk to me.

"You have any idea what this is about?" I ask as we take the escalator down to the main level.

"Not a clue," Kristoff says with a shake of his head, although I don't fail to notice the grin on his face and know instantly he's lying.

I choose not to press him though as we reach the lobby and I recognize the announcer standing with some man I've never seen waiting by the entrance.

"Who's that?" I whisper to Kristoff.

"Go find out yourself."

Pushing me forward, the announcer and the other man turn to face me, both with pleasant smiles on their faces.

"Ah, Ms Summers, right?" the unknown man questions.

I nod, beginning to wonder if I'm in trouble. Did I do something illegal?

"Am I in trouble?" I ask before even thinking.

I see both men break into laughter, and I breathe a sigh of relief, yet feel overcome with embarrassment. Of course I didn't do anything illegal. I wouldn't have won if I had, and even then, I'd probably be talking to cops right now, not these two.

"Of course not, my dear girl," the same man tells me. "I simply have a proposition for you."

"Okay?" I say, and for reason it comes out sounding more like a question.

"I was present for the entire tournament tonight and saw how well you handled yourself out there," he begins. "You're well pass rookie material, and I believe you could do well at a higher level."

He pauses and gives me a chance to put two and two together, but perhaps because of my recent fainting spell, my brain isn't working its best at the moment.

"Meaning?" I ask. "I'm sorry, but I'm not following."

"Of course not," the announcer cuts in. "You just participated in three fights and won all of them. You're beaten up, sore, and your friend tells us you fainted?"

"I'm fine now, though!" I tell them. "Honestly, I do it all the time!"

The two men glance at each other and I hear Kristoff sigh behind me.

Okay, so maybe that was a stupid thing to say. Now they're going to think I'm ill or something.

"Well, here's hoping you won't next month," the man says with a sly smile.

Next month? What's next month…?

No. Way. I blink repeatedly as my brain finally catches up.

"You want me to fight in the actual tournament?" I ask. "Like, the one for _real_ boxers and not rookies?"

"I think after tonight, you've proven you're a real boxer, Anna," the man tells me kindly. "It would be an honor to have you participate."

"You really think I'm good enough?" I'm still having a hard time believing this isn't some kind of set up.

"Well, you do have a month to prepare," the announcer says, "but yes; we think you have what it takes. And when you hear something like that from the commissioner, you know it's true."

"The _commissioner_?" I balk.

The other man grins. "Yes, ma'am. David Roth," he introduces, holding out a hand to me. "It's an honor to meet you, Anna."

"T-The pleasure is all mine, s-sir," I mumble, shaking his proffered hand. "I've been wanting to compete in the tournaments here since I was in middle school back in Kentucky."

"And here you are," he says with another smile.

"Here I am," I repeat.

"Well, then, I look forward to your next fight, Anna," David tells me. "I'll be rooting for you."

"And I as well," the announcer winks at me before following the commissioner out the doors.

I stand there in silence for a minute before spinning to face Kristoff. From the way he starts laughing at me, I'm sure I must look completely stupid, my mouth hanging open in shock and eyes wide as a UFO.

"Did that really just happen?" I ask.

"Yup," he nods. "You're not still unconscious, Red. You were just _invited _to compete in the tournament. The announcer came to see me as soon as we entered the locker room, but after seeing you had fainted, he just chuckled and said to find him when you came to. He told me what the commissioner was going to say, but I wanted you to hear it from him firsthand."

"But… I don't…" I couldn't form a competent sentence to save my life.

"Don't faint again, please," Kristoff jokes.

I send him a weak glare before we turn to exit the arena ourselves. We have to be the last people here now; it is going on midnight after all.

On our way back to the subway, I stop, concentrating on the sidewalk immediately beneath me. Kristoff turns once he notices I'm no longer beside him.

"Anna?"

I fix him with a hard stare as my hands clench back into fists.

"Now I _definitely _need to fix things with Elsa."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, and for any of you who are curious...This story is far from over! We still have the entire storyline of Elsa, don't we? So, prepare yourselves for more fights (boxing or otherwise!), fluff, angst, and time with our favorite girls! I still have much planned for them. ;)<strong>


	15. Chapter 14: Go the Distance

**Okay, so short chapter this time. But it's full of angsty-fluff (is that even a thing?) so eat your hearts out.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Go the Distance<strong>

I wake up the next morning with throbbing ribs, a swollen ankle, and a slightly black eye, yet I am over the moon. Perhaps it's partly due to the pain meds I had taken last night, but I know the more likely culprit was my lingering high from the tourney. I mean, I had just fucking won my first tournament less than twenty-four hours ago. I was high on life.

Sorry; am I starting to run this into the ground? I don't want to sound too full of myself, but forgive me for being proud of this feat. I suppose I'm still just trying to assure myself that last night actually happened. It wouldn't be the first time I've had dreams of glory.

A glance at my dresser to see my medal handing there and glistening in the morning sun, as well as a look at my phone to see a text from Kristoff reading, **'I know you're surely doubting yourself right now. Last night really happened, kiddo. Congrats,'** and I suppose I can no longer think that any more.

This is real.

I'm a motherfucking champion.

Okay, I concede, getting out of bed with a roll of my eyes, I'm just a champion of _rookies_ right now, but a champion nonetheless.

I ride on my high horse all the way to work, until Olaf jumping into my arms and my ribs and ankle crying out in detest remind me being a champion has its prices.

"Annie!" he cries with a gasp. "What happened to your face?"

"Didn't you know I'm a super hero?" I ask him, trying to keep a straight face and failing. "I got this when trying to defeat one of many villains!"

Olaf giggles, covering his mouth with his hands. "No you're not," he tells me.

I huff, pretending to deflate, but smile. "Okay, you got me. I'm no hero, just your average peasant; _but_ when you hear talk about the next super hero tryouts, let me know, huh?"

"Only if I can be your sidekick."

I ruffle his hair. "You know it, kiddo. Wouldn't have it any other way."

I carry him back to the rest of the kids who are spread out amongst tables, playing various games or with toys. Marshall sees us coming, and his eyes light up.

"Anna!" he greets me. "I saw you on TV last night!"

Damn, I think, a four year-old watching boxing? Guess it's better than getting a head start on Grand Theft Auto or something, but still…

"You were on TV?!" Grammar Girl, who, I suppose I should start calling by her real name, Ellie, shouts. "Are you a famous person?"

Olaf and the other kids are staring at me now like they're just waiting for me to morph into Emma Watson or something. Chuckling, I sit down on a cushion on the floor that makes up our reading circle, Olaf climbing routinely into my lap. The other children hurriedly scamper over and take their place in the circle, eager eyes anticipating my answer.

"I'm not famous yet," I tell all of them with a playful grin, "but I could be in the future."

"She's gonna be a super hero!" Olaf claims. "And I get to be the sidekick!"

"A super hero, huh?" a familiar voice juts in.

Looking up, my eyes widen, jaw dropping, and heartrate picking up as I observe the figure leaning casually against a bookshelf.

"Elsa," I gasp.

The children immediately turn around to follow my gaze, and Elsa quickly goes from seemingly confident, small grin on her face, to nervous and shy as twenty little eyes hone in on her.

"_That's_ her?" Ellie whispers loudly, Elsa being sure to hear.

As the kids begin to mumble amongst themselves, I slowly move Olaf from my lap and stand. Elsa remains by the bookcase, biting her lip and cradling her brace.

"Sh-Should I not have come?" she asks.

"No!" I cry out before I remember I'm in a library and should probably use the "inside voice" I always preach to the kids. "I just…"

"Wasn't expecting me?" Elsa offers to finish.

"C-Can you blame me?" I question nervously, not really wanting to jump into the reasons the two of us have been distant lately right this second.

Elsa looks to the floor as a dejected look crosses her features and I suddenly feel like crap. One minute in to seeing her after all the shit I put her through, and I'm making her out to be the enemy again.

"I… I didn't mean it that way," I fumble, fiddling with my hands. "Elsa, I'm sorry, but…can we talk later?" I force myself to look at her as I tell her, "I really want to talk to you again. Face to face. Will you wait for me?"

Smiling softly, she nods and answers, "Sure, Anna. I was here merely to check out something to read when I remembered you worked here."

"You can…wait here if you want," I offer. "I'm about to read to the kids."

"Well, I do love stories," Elsa tells me, her grin flickering back to life.

Laughing softly, I joke, "Even The Cat in the Hat?" and it's like the fissure between us closes up by itself. We're basically back to normal again, joking and subtly flirting, despite the painful ordeal just a few weeks ago.

Maybe Kristoff was right; maybe everything will be okay.

"I'll just sit here," Elsa says, walking over to a table as I follow her. "Don't worry about me and take your time. After all," she smirks, "it's been years since I read or heard any Dr Suess."

Mirroring her grin, I retreat back to the reading circle only to find the kids all staring at me and smiling. Olaf even goes as far as wiggling his eyebrows suggestively—where he learned that, I probably don't want to know.

"You're _blushing_, Anna!" Ellie points out.

"She was blushing too, though!" Marshall adds, pointing across the room to Elsa.

"Why is she here?" another kid asks.

"Are you guys going out after this?"

"Have you kissed her yet?"

"Can she read to us?"

"Can she talk to us?"

"Can we talk to her?"

The questions are being fired at me a mile a minute and I'm just staring slack-jawed at the tiny humans before me. Looking quickly over to Elsa, I find her blushing and hiding her laughter behind her hand. Apparently she finds this amusing.

Well, two can play at that game.

"Sure," I tell the kids calmly, smile growing subtly sly, "she can read to you all."

"W-What?" I hear Elsa sputter from her spot at the table.

The kids all cry out before they're picking up their cushions and running to seat themselves in front of Elsa, who is just staring at them like she's never seen kids before.

"Well, come on, _Miss_ Elsa," I can't help but continuing playing. "Don't keep the children waiting."

"Please, Elsa?" all of them ask simultaneously.

Elsa just sits there blinking for a moment—no doubt trying to compose herself, as this is surely the last thing she had been expecting when she came here—before she shoots me a glare which tells me I'll surely get it later. Despite this, she then looks back at the kids and smiles a smile so serene and genuine I feel like it could stop a war.

"I'd love to read to you all," she tells them gently, taking on a tone only a mother would use.

I'm made a bit uncomfortable by that, as I'm not sure what Elsa's thinking at the moment. Could she be screaming and crying inside because she's reminded of the loving figure she lost in her mother and father? Or is that the furthest thing from her mind, and she's exactly how she seems? In her element.

Regardless, I'm internally swooning as a small girl named Lilo hands her Green Eggs and Ham and Elsa freaking winks, causing Lilo to blush. Her cousin, Stitch, looks absolutely love-struck from his seat beside her. The only thing I can think is: back off, kid; this girl is mine.

Apparently sometime during my stupor, I had also moved my own cushion closer to the mass of children before Elsa as Olaf crawls back into my lap. He looks up at me, grinning at the look of adoration present on my face that I'm doing a horrible job at concealing.

"You didn't know she was coming, did you?" he asks.

"Nope," I mutter.

"She is pretty," he tells me. "I can see why you like her."

He giggles as I instantly flush crimson, softly shoving him from my lap.

"Shut it, kid."

Elsa gets pulled into reading for a whole hour before I have to begrudgingly step in. We both receive ten pairs of puppy-dog eyes, but neither of us fall victim. Eventually, with the promise of Elsa returning to read again sometime soon, they leave Elsa and me alone and retreat for lunch.

"So…" I mumble once it's just me and her, stooping to pick up the mass of books Elsa had read.

"So," she repeats.

"Not what you were expecting this morning when you walked in here, huh?" I manage with a small smirk.

Elsa chuckles, and I have to swallow the knot rising in my throat because, despite everything that's happened, things I should never be able to make up for, we're standing here talking. We're talking and fumbling around the other like we always used to when we first met. This sends both waves of comfort and nostalgia over me because it's like my folly never happened, yet it also fills me with insurmountable pain. Pain because we _are_ aware of the minefield we're tiptoeing through, yet we're choosing to ignore it. But Elsa's willing to look past that—to see the good in this war and hope that the opposing parties can band together to create something beautiful from the destruction that surrounds them.

Okay, so maybe I'm going a bit overboard with the war metaphors, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel like I had been thrust onto a battlefield suddenly.

"It was a surprise, yes," Elsa is saying, and I remember that we were actually in the middle of a conversation, "but a pleasant one. Your kids are adorable."

I smile automatically because who can't help but smile when talking about kids—evil people, that's who—but I'm also overcome with a blush as Elsa refers to them as "my kids."

"Well, they're not _my_ kids, but I know what you meant," I say hurriedly out of embarrassment. I hear Elsa chuckle, but I carry on regardless. "They are cute though. I was kind of nervous when I landed this job 'cause I'd never worked with kids before, but they're such a good group. I fell in love almost instantly and they did too. Win-win."

"Well, you're great with them," Elsa compliments, smiling shyly once more as she looks from me, to them, and then back to me.

I feel my cheeks heat up even more and I just want to melt into the floor. Of all things, we're really talking about _kids_? Can this situation get any more awkward?

"When do you get off?" Elsa asks me next.

Fuck, she's asking me out now? Apparently the situation _can_ get more awkward.

In any other situation, I'd be over the moon, head over heels, ready to profess my love for this girl, yet now her proposition only serves to wound me. Why is she being so nice? Why isn't she yelling at me? Cursing my name for all I'm worth? I don't deserve her forgiveness, I think, and I certainly don't deserve her kindness.

But I can't deny that it's all my heart has yearned for these past two weeks.

"Elsa," I mumble, refusing to look at her, "I don't…"

"Please, Anna," she nearly begs. "I agree, we need to talk. I… I-I need to talk."

I see the anguish under the façade of hope in her eyes, and I realize that maybe Elsa has been feeling the same as me. Perhaps my war metaphor wasn't so far off in reality. Instead of being enemy combatants though, Elsa and I are actually on the same side. I don't necessarily get it, but maybe Elsa feels this is her fault just as it is mine. I would try my damnedest not to let her think that, as I was the one who pushed her and she had a right to her opinions regarding her own body. Being willing to help may have come from the depths of my heart, but if this ordeal has taught me anything, it's patience.

"Anna?" she asks meekly, and I shake my head because of course I keep spacing out when I shouldn't be.

"Of course, Elsa," I tell her, smiling despite the inner turmoil still rampant inside me. "We can talk; I know we need to."

A moment passes where we just at each other with barely concealed grins on our faces. I can feel several of the children watching us from where they eat, and I'm just waiting for a chorus of "Sitting in a Tree" to break out.

"So?" Elsa prompts with a giggle. "You get off…?"

I blush, realizing I never answered when she asked me that earlier.

"Oh, duh," I mumble, causing Elsa to laugh again—yet I find myself not caring that it's at my expense again. "That might be helpful, wouldn't it?"

"Just a bit," she jokes.

Mouth aching by now due to how much I'm smiling, I tell her, "I'm off at three."

"Three," she repeats. "Want to meet back in Central Park? I know it's kind of far from here, but it is closer to both our places."

"No, no, that's fine!" I exclaim. "Central Park. I'll text you when I get off the subway to see where you are."

"Great," Elsa breathes. "See you soon. And thanks, Anna."

Smiling softly, we bid each other farewell. She's out of the room when I sigh like a love-struck teenager—which, let's be real, I am.

"No," I whisper. "Thank _you_, Elsa."


	16. Chapter 15: The Wounds Will Heal

**Chapter Fifteen: The Wounds Will Heal**

It's a little after three-thirty when I enter Central Park after work. Of course the train I needed to take would be late when I have somewhere important to be. That important thing being Elsa, mind you. As I make my way to Strawberry Fields—where Elsa had texted she'd be—I really start to think.

This, basically, is Elsa's and my second chance. I had messed things up for the both of us the first time around, yet Elsa was willing to look past that and start again.

Who's to say I wouldn't mess up again this time?

I mean, let's be honest, I'm _me_. Not only that, but we still have so much uncharted, dangerous territory before us. I've promised myself a thousand times over that if Elsa wants me to drop everything related to her accident, I would, but it really isn't that simple. I'd try my damnedest, don't get me wrong, but I know the thought and ache to help her will forever be lingering in the back of my mind.

Then I'd think, what if she _does_ want my help? What then? Am I really that sure I can shoulder this much responsibility in leading a close friend through what will most likely be the darkest and most emotional time of her life? Before now, the most selfless thing I had done was helping a friend through an abusive relationship and helping her break up with the guy. While that had seemed incredible at the time, it paled in comparison now.

The heart is one thing all on its own. Yet, with Elsa, not only is the heart a massive part to the equation, but you have the phantom limb, the possible prosthetic, and the mind as well. This was much more complex than relationship troubles.

Did I have it in me?

After successfully causing myself to freak out, I see Elsa ahead of me. She's sitting on a bench, her hand fiddling with one of those large soft pretzels from a park vendor. Noticing me approaching, she looks up and a smile immediately finds its way to her face.

"Hi," she breathes.

"Hi," I mumble back. "Sorry I'm late. Damn train just _had_ to be late."

She chuckles and replies, "That's New York for you."

I let a smile flicker across my face before we're both looking at the ground before us. The silence is brief, but painfully awkward. It really hadn't been this way between us since the second time I approached her in the gym, and that unsettles my stomach even more because I realize that's how far back in time we've gone: to the beginning.

Elsa really is trying to start over.

And that's beginning to make me more and more anxious as the silence lingers.

"I thought you might be hungry," she says, holding out the pretzel in her hand. "I didn't know if you got a chance to eat or not."

Instantly, my stomach rumbles, and I'm thankful Elsa didn't appear to hear.

"T-Thanks," I tell her gratefully, reaching out to accept the food.

I sit beside her silently and begin munching on my treat. Elsa begins to fiddle with a loose thread on her shirt, and I feel a bit better knowing she's as nervous as I am about everything. Probably even more so, because I have an inkling that she's going to be the one taking charge this time around.

At least, some part of me hopes that's true.

"I… I'm really sorry, Anna," she starts suddenly, refusing to look my way. "About everything."

Swallowing the lump of pretzel in my throat, I jump in. "No, Elsa; you don't have to apologize for anything."

That gets her to look at me and I'm floored by the variety of emotions swirling in her eyes. Sadness, guilt, anger, longing, desire, and a flicker of hope are all present, and I know she's about to address them all.

"But I do," she tells me firmly, yet not angrily. "Just…let me say what I need to say, okay? I promise I'll give you a chance to talk then, alright?"

Not sure what to expect, I nod, deciding to busy myself with my pretzel to keep me from interrupting.

"Ever since…I kicked you out that night, I've been in constant turmoil," she begins, and I watch her hands fist the material of her jeans in her lap. "Then, you came to apologize out of the goodness of your heart and that's when I realized that I had been completely wrong the entire time. You were right that first night, you know? About everything. I'm…_not_ happy, Anna, and above all else I want that to change.

"You wanted to know why I didn't want a prosthetic, and I'm telling you why today: fear. That's my pathetic answer. Fear that things could possibly be the way they were, because…how can they really when there's no way to bring my parents back?" By now, I can tell she's fighting back tears, and—finished with my pretzel—I tentatively take a clenched fist in my hand.

She looks at me and I flash her a crooked smile, the only condolence I'll allow myself to give right now, intent on letting her finish what she has to say without any input from me.

Smiling back slightly, she continues.

"But, that's the thing, Anna—that's the reason I didn't want a prosthetic, because I felt like moving on would be essentially leaving them behind. But," she lets out a large huff with the expel, "I know now that was just the grief talking. I didn't think I could be happy without them by my side—hell, I didn't _want_ to be happy without them. But then I realized that despite trying my hardest not to allow myself to be happy, I had been."

She fixes me with an intense stare before she rasps out, "I was happy with you, Anna."

My heart feels like it's about to erupt from my chest, and I thank the heavens I'm already seated as my legs are sure to have melted.

"I didn't even know I was though until I lost you," she's saying, and I force myself to hone back in on her conversation and not the desire and hope that's glistening in the forefront of her eyes. "When you came to me the night before the tournament, everything came to me. I was afraid I'd be alone for the rest of my life without my parents. I didn't want to pick myself back up because I knew I couldn't do it alone. I couldn't let myself entertain the idea of a normal life again because they will never have that privilege. But, I realized there was a way I didn't have to be alone anymore. I was so caught up in keeping my life the hell I knew that I had been completely unaware that you had been changing it right before my eyes."

She squeezes my hand and limply grasps the other one with her null limb. I can't hold it in anymore and whimper one tiny utterance.

"Elsa…"

She chokes on a laugh before she's leaning forward, connecting our foreheads as if trying to meld our hearts and souls together by doing so. My stomach clenches as I take in all the tears cascading down her cheeks.

"I want to change, Anna," she whispers. "And…I know I can now. While it will be hard, I have to let my parents go. I'll always love them, but they're holding me back. You were right about so many things. They would want me to be happy again. They would want me to continue my career, no matter at what expense. They know I have it in me. I do miss boxing. I do want to compete again, no matter at what level. But, you were wrong about one thing."

She's gazing at me again, and I'm shivering under the scrutiny.

"You were happy," I utter.

She nods, and I feel tears of my own trail down my cheek.

"You were happy with me," I choke.

She nods again, leaning forward even more and pressing a lingering, searing, amazing kiss on my cheek.

"I was happy with you," she repeats. Affirms.

My heart soars.

"I…" she's stuttering. "Will you take me back? I want to change, Anna, but I know I can only do it if I know you're with me. I was wrong to turn you and your help away. But I want it. I _need_ it."

There was never any doubt in my mind that I would answer her in anything but the positive.

XxXxX

After the tearful, emotional, yet uplifting exchange in Central Park, Elsa and I headed back to her place. We walked back hand in hand, her head resting on my shoulder the entire time. Our tears had dried, our hearts had mended, and our minds were set on only one thing: Elsa's future. I knew there were still many trials before us, and no doubt some of those trials would be more fights between the two of us, but no one said this kind of ordeal fixed itself easily. No doubt there would be days where Elsa would find everything too much and fall back into her depressed state where things just seem so much easier and more appealing. No doubt there would be days where she would take a monumental step, but then her guilt would resurface and remind her of the hole her parents could never escape.

Yet, through all of this, there was no doubt that I wouldn't be by her side the entire time.

And the difference this time was that _both_ of us knew it.

"Your eye is looking a lot better," Elsa says once we've made it back to her apartment, warm cups of tea in our hands.

I chuckle quietly, subconsciously reaching up to trace the swelling. "Yeah?" I ask. "That's good, 'cause for a while there it hurt like a bitch."

She echoes my laugh. "The first injury is always the worst. Not only does it hurt physically, but your pride takes a beating as well."

"Pft," I scoff with a grin, "pride? My pride is still very much inflated, thank you very much. I have enough ego to satisfy the entirety of New York City!"

"Good to know," Elsa quips with a smile.

Mirroring her smile, I lean back against the couch, my ribs only slightly protesting the movement this time.

"Besides," I say, "if we're talking injuries, the black eye was the third one. First was the cracked ribs, and then the sprained ankle."

Elsa blinks at this knowledge. "You got all that from the tournament?"

I nod. "Honestly, only my ribs still hurt."

I see a shadow of sadness cover her face, surely reprimanding herself for not being there for me last night. Intent on not letting her wallow in self-pity and guilt any more than she is already is, I barrel right on.

"Oh, but guess what?" I tell her excitedly. "I haven't even told you the best part about last night!"

"What could be better than winning?" she questions.

I grin as I answer, "How about being _invited_ to compete in the tournament next month? By the _commissioner_ himself?"

Her eyes nearly bug from her head at my news, and I have to hold in a laugh.

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious," I tell her.

"Well," she says with a smile, "David did always have an eye for talent."

I should have expected Elsa would know him on some level, but I still can't help being surprised when she uses his first name.

"You know him, huh?"

"Of course." This time it's her turn to grin. "Who do you think helped me get to my first Olympics?"

Now _my_ eyes nearly leave their sockets. "_Him_?" I balk.

"Well, it wasn't just him, mind you," she explains. "But after I won the city tournament two years in a row, he was the first to approach me about considering the Olympics. Even told me he'd do everything in his power to get me scouted and sponsored."

"That's…generous," I mumble.

Elsa shrugs. "I was only sixteen at the time, my eyes were only focused on the possible glory, never mind how I was supposed to get there with the help of a stranger. But, whatever he did worked, and within a year I was there."

"When I was sixteen I was just competing in silly high school tournaments in good ol' Kentucky," I mumble somewhat dejectedly.

Elsa smiles sympathetically, her hand resting on my knee.

"But look how far you've come isince," she tells me. "You have potential, Anna, but if you compare yourself to others, you'll never recognize it."

"Kinda hard not to when my freaking idol is here next to me and has her hand on my knee," I retort in a joking matter.

Elsa removes her hand, blushes, and focuses on her tea.

"Sorry," she whispers.

"Don't be," I cast her worry away. "If we were all Elsa Arendelle, none of us would have someone to look up to."

Her blush only intensifies as she looks up at me with absolutely the most adorable fucking smile I have ever seen on her lips.

"Thanks, Anna."

I literally have to strain myself from capturing that smile with my lips.

"Don't mention it," I squeak.

Another silence settles before I turn on the couch to look at Elsa, my empty tea cup sitting on the coffee table so all my attention is focused on her.

"Is your…offer to train me still open?" I ask. "I really don't think I can do even remotely well in this fight without you, and, I mean, you helped so much with the rookie one, I can only improve, right? I mean, I don't want to burden you, but I really liked our training sessions 'cause not only were they helpful, but fun too. I felt like it was something that really connected us and I don't want to lose that. Especially considering…what may be to come in the future."

In order to stop me from going on another rant, she takes my hand again and smiles, though her eyes are hard set with determination this time.

"Of course, Anna," she says. "Of course I'll still train you. With all you're doing to help me, it's the very least I can do."

I smile in relief, but then narrow my eyes as I squeeze her hand back, though I keep a light in my eyes to clue Elsa in that I'm—at least partly—joking.

"Hey, now, let's not make this about owing anybody anything, alright? I'm doing this because I _want_ to, and I hope it's the same for you, not obligation."

"Of course it is," she tells me, and I immediately believe her. "You're too kind, Anna."

"As are you, Elsa."

We take a moment to stare longingly into each other's eyes and before we fall even more victim to a cliché romance novel—but, let's be real, it's mostly to keep myself from kissing the life out of Elsa on the couch then and there—I cough and break our gaze.

"So," I exclaim, hearing Elsa chuckle beside me at the blush I know I'm donning, "at the risk of this becoming any more like a Lifetime movie, I should head home."

"What's wrong with Lifetime movies?" she quips, standing with me and walking me to the door.

Turning to face her, I grin. "I always fall asleep during them."

"Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?" she says with another of her fucking winks.

My cheeks heat up even more, and this time I will be fleeing her apartment for a completely different reason.

I contemplate if hugging Elsa would be stepping across the line here, but then I remember she kissed my cheek earlier. While that was perhaps done in the heat of the moment, it still meant something, right?

Regardless, my thoughts are cut off when it's Elsa to wrap me in a hug. It's good to know someone in this relationship has a backbone.

"Thanks again, Anna," she mumbles into my neck as my arms come to settle around her waist. "For meeting me, hearing me out, everything."

"I would say it's nothing, but we both know it's really something much more, so… You're welcome, Elsa."

I give her a gentle squeeze before I extract my arms. She, however, does not release me. Instead she almost burrows further into my neck, and I wonder if she's on the brink of tears when I hear her sniff.

"Elsa?" I try.

"Do you want to stay again?" she meekly asks, and in such a tentative voice I have to strain to hear.

My heart leaps to my throat. Do I ever.

Pulling her back, I look into her eyes only to see blue irises shimmering with hope. No longing, no lust, just hope.

"Please?" she begs.

She offers me her hand, and I take a moment to stare at it while weighing all the possibilities accepting versus turning away will do. I keep looking for something that isn't present, hoping it will give me reason to turn away and that is what scares me. Elsa wants me here. The last time I spent the night was different; done out of kindness to keep her from feeling lonely and vulnerable. Now? This is an invite from friend to friend, and if I take the proffered hand before me, that might all change.

I have never had a true relationship until Elsa. Sure, there had been girls before; a hot make out session at some bad teenaged party, but nothing real, nothing structured. Am I ready for something real? Something of this caliber? I mean, Elsa is…Elsa, not some silly little fling. She's not even a good lay, as I have never and will never use a girl for meaningless sex.

So do I take her hand and commit myself to yet another roller coaster of experiences sure to come? Or do I take the easy way out and run?

Our eyes meet and the hope in hers is still there, burning strong and true, and it's then I know she feels the same. By taking her hand, she knows this will forever change things, maybe not drastically right away, but the change will be there nonetheless. Yet she doesn't back down. She is sure. She is confident.

She really wants me.

Her smile builds as I look back up at her from her hand. She nods ever so gently, prodding me like one would a child, and hesitantly, my hand inches towards hers. They meet and automatically grasp hold of one another like a lifeline; like a connection meant to be. I hear her laugh, my own following soon after, and when I look at her next, she's beaming like a child.

Then, tugging me deliberately, she leads me to her bedroom, twin blushes spread across our cheeks like fire.

* * *

><p><strong>*ahem* Just to clarify, they don't do the<strong>_** do**_**. No frick-frack, guys. Yet… ;)**

**Still, quite a step forward considering, huh? Huh? **

**Don't mind me, just sitting here fangirling in my chair as my babies bond. Now we get to the good stuff. So fave, follow, and review! **


	17. Chapter 16: Round Two

**LONG A/N! PLEASE READ! INFO ON FUTURE UPDATES!**

**Wow, guys, I'm **_**so**_** sorry about the wait for this chapter. I feel especially horrible because within the past two weeks or so, I have received four pieces of fan art for this piece and have been truly humbled. Sucker Punch's new cover art is by jungie14295 on Tumblr, who not only did this work, but one of Elsa that's similar, and another of Anna. Seriously, jungie, I am truly, **_**truly**_** flattered. **

**Then there's asksillysisters, also on Tumblr, who made a hilarious gif of Anna getting her ass handed to her by Elsa. XD **

**But anyway, why I was late updating. You all know I have school. Well, not only that, but I am graduating from university in May and therefore my workload is only increasing as the month nears. So, updates may be sporadic because of that. Next, last week was my Spring Break—yes, I know it's still actually winter—and I was out of town. Lastly, if you read A Never Ending Note, you will also know I suffer from depression. Well, it suddenly decided to return with a punch to the gut, and I honestly haven't felt like writing much lately at all. Seriously, it's amazing I was any fun on our trip last week. All I've wanted to do lately is sleep and eat…**

**So yeah, school and depression… Not a good mix. Anyways, hopefully I'll be on a new medication soon and we won't hear from my depression for a long while. That leaves school, and, hopefully after May—despite hopefully getting a full-time job—updates will become weekly if not faster.**

**Seriously guys, we have a long way to go, and I intend to finish Sucker Punch no matter how long it takes. Hope you all will continue to stick with me for the duration and I can't thank you enough for the support I've received so far. :)**

**Okay, long A/N over. I'll let you read on in peace. But first…**

**FROZEN FEVER COMES OUT FRIDAY! I CAN'T WAIT!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Round Two<strong>

When I wake up the next morning with an arm draped across my stomach, I actually don't freak out. Last night is still beautifully engraved in my mind and so the weight I feel can only be one thing—or one person.

Turning my head slightly, I really do have to do everything in my power to keep from squealing.

Elsa Arendelle—beautiful, perfect Elsa Arendelle—is curled up against me, nose pressed into my chest, arm drawing me close to her, and small smile present as she still slumbers away.

Too. Fucking. Cute.

When I can't feel my own left arm, I search for it and discover Elsa probably spent the better part of the night sleeping on top of it. Wiggling my fingers, I see them pop up behind Elsa and I smile, not being to help resting them against her as I pull her closer to me. She hums at the pressure and snuggles even nearer if that's possible. I'm blushing bright red by this point, but have no intention of waking her up. I'm on cloud nine here.

Unfortunately, Elsa's alarm just has to go off at that point, and she's rolling over and off of me before I can tell her to let it ring; I just want to cuddle more.

"'Morning," she mumbles with a yawn, turning back to face me.

"Hi," I reply, trying not to look as her NYU shirt slips off her shoulder slightly.

Not to mention the fact that she hadn't worn her brace to bed last night, and so I'm doing everything in my power to keep my eyes off her stump at the same time.

"Did you sleep okay?" she asks, now looking at me with a smile. Chuckling, she adds, "Although with that bed-head, I'm going to assume the answer is yes."

My eyes pop open and my hands scramble to my head as I hop from the bed. Shit! How ridiculous do I look?

I hear Elsa laughing behind me as she watches me try to tame my wild mane before a mirror, and despite my burning embarrassment, I can't keep the smile off my face. After managing to get my hair somewhat under control, I spin back around.

Immediately upon seeing Elsa sitting up, shy smile on her face as she giggles behind her hand, everything hits me.

I _woke up_ next to Elsa. We _shared_ a bed. _Her_ bed. We _slept together_; and while we might not have "done anything," I find that doesn't even matter. Elsa could probably get anyone she wants, and last night she basically had to beg me and then drag me to her room. _Me_.

Now, the girl of my dreams is staring at me with a small blush of her own, and I'm doing everything I can to not snap and tackle her back to the sheets and kiss the life out of her.

Instead, I stiffly walk back to the bed before lowering myself back down to it.

"It doesn't look bad," Elsa says, and I have to actually think about what she's referring to.

Oh yeah, my hair.

"I think it looks cute."

My cheeks instantly flush at that and, with an embarrassed groan, I roll over so my face is in the pillow.

Elsa just giggles once more. Damn it, she's enjoying this too much. Peeking over to her from the pillow though, I realize I don't have anything to use against her. The girl looks perfect just minutes after waking up. How in the world does one manage that?

"Shut up," is the pathetic grumble I shoot her instead.

She lets out a little snort at my mumbled retort before I feel the bed shift under me, signaling Elsa leaving its comfy confines. I choose to instead continue laying where I am even though my face isn't burning from embarrassment anymore. Did I mention how comfy this bed was?

It's only Elsa's gentle, soft—nervous?—voice that finally gets me to roll over and look at her, finding her standing at the bed's foot. She's absently rubbing the stump of her arm while she gazes at the floor with a far off look in her eyes, those perfect teeth showing themselves as they worry a supple lip between them.

I go over the previous description and internally roll my eyes. Damn, I really do have it bad for this girl. _Supple_ lip? When have I ever described anything as _supple_? Do I even know what that word means? Did I use that right?

Anyway, off topic; back to the goddess.

"Anna?" she asks again when I take forever to reply—because, like any normal person, I was talking to myself in my head and griping about my word choice.

That was sarcasm, by the way.

"Yeah?" I answer quickly this time, not letting my still-sleep-ridden mind to wander any more.

Elsa refuses to look at me when she says, "I want you to meet my parents," in a small whisper.

Oh, I think before it hits me like a Mack truck.

_Oh_.

Sitting up, I crawl down to where Elsa's standing, taking her hand in mind. That gets her to finally look at me, and I smile. Something similar flashes across her face before it's replaced by a look of uncertainty.

"Really?" I ask gently. "This is a big step, Elsa, and while I'd be happy to accompany you and am flattered to have the pleasure, I want to be sure you're ready for this."

She nods, bringing my hand up to her lips and kissing it softly. Another blush automatically lights up my face.

"I'm ready, Anna," she tells me, and I note the confidence present, even if fear and despair are still doing their best to suppress it. "They… They really would have loved you, I know it."

My smile grows. "Thanks, Elsa."

We get ready in silence. I want to talk, to reassure Elsa in some kind of way that everything's going to be okay, but unfortunately, I can't really back that up with anything but wanting to be kind and cheer her up. Is she rushing things? I mean, going to visit your parents' graves alone is one thing, but bringing someone along? The person you just shared a bed with who happens to be falling in love with you?

Shit, I knew these kinds of questions were coming, but I never really expected them to be this hard to answer. Or to come this fast.

But, I keep telling myself, if Elsa is truly ready, then who am I to stop her, right?

I finish changing in the bathroom to find Elsa in her bedroom and adjusting her brace in the mirror. She sees me enter and flashes me a small smile. I return one instinctively before I come up behind her.

"When… When was the last time you visited them?" I'm asking before I know it.

Elsa's eyes cloud over, and I want to punch myself in the face. You don't just ask someone that. Gods, I'm an idiot.

Elsa surprises me, however, when she actually answers.

"Honestly, not since a month after I left the hospital," she mutters, completely ashamed.

Yet, I can hardly blame her.

"I didn't mean to stay away," she's explaining. "Every time I went to visit, I'd just…stop in front of the cemetery's entrance and could never go any further."

"Were you close with them?" I ask next, figuring I'll know if I cross any lines.

"Incredibly," she responds with a nod. "My father particularly, though I don't want to take anything away from my mom. I loved them both. They were both very supportive of me boxing, and couldn't have been happier and proud the first time I went to the Olympics. I think they both cried when I came home with the silver."

She's smiling as she recounts the memories, yet a single tear still escapes and rolls down her cheek. I reach to stop it, but she stops my hand, acting to wipe it away instead. She meets my eyes with a grateful smile though, which I again return heartedly.

"Are you _sure_ you want to do this, Elsa?" I can't help but ask again. "When I said I'd help you yesterday, I didn't mean we had to jump right into it."

"I know," she tells me with a wet chuckle. "But I'm ready; honest, Anna. I've been living like this for fourteen months, it's time I start this journey, and I believe this to be the first step. I _want_ to do this. Today; with you."

I swallow a knot in my throat as I nod.

"Okay."

XxXxX

We take a subway to Brooklyn and are standing before the gates of the Green-Wood Cemetery before we know it. We come to a stop before entering, and Elsa grasps my hand. I think to myself this must be how far she's ever gotten before turning around. I find no shame in that though. I can't imagine visiting my parents' graves. Hell, I'm about to tear up just imagining the prospect.

"Okay," Elsa breathes.

I tighten my grip on her hand for a kind of silent reassurance and semblance of encouragement before Elsa takes a step forward and we walk through the entrance.

The cemetery is beautiful, and you can see Manhattan right across the Hudson. Across the bay, you can also see Jersey City, and the cemetery itself almost sits right on the water. Despite not having been here in fourteen months, Elsa leads me through the maze of headstones and graves like a pro. We walk to the furthest point north, downtown Manhattan looming even closer.

"Here," Elsa exclaims, dropping my hand as she folds her arms across her stomach.

I look down at our feet to see two headstones side-by-side, the sunlight reflecting off the charcoal marble and making it shine.

_Adgar Arendelle_ is inscribed on one; _Idunn Arendelle _carved on its twin.

Elsa reaches for my hand again and I take it before I step back slightly, trying to give her some notion of privacy without leaving her completely.

"Hi, mama," she whispers brokenly. "Daddy."

Two tears escape me before I can stop them, and I swallow the burning in my throat as I glare at the ground. I can't cry. These aren't even my parents, and I need to be strong for Elsa here.

"This is Anna," she says, pulling me back forward slightly. I find it's good manners to look back up at the graves as if they were there before me as Elsa continues. "She's a boxer like me. I…wanted you all to meet her because she's helping me get back on my feet. I know it's what you both would have wanted and I'm sorry it's taken me so long, but…"

She looks over her shoulder at me, and I smile, eyes burning, nodding to signal she should continue.

"Anna's helping," she manages to finish. "I'm stronger with her, mama, daddy; I'm healing."

She lets go of my hand long enough to place the flowers we bought on the way in a vase between the two graves before she has ahold of it once again. A smile slides onto my face, though it is a somber one. The flowers are half orchids and half sunflowers, Elsa's father's and mother's favorite flowers respectively.

"You're doing great," I whisper to her.

I hear her laugh softly at my words as well as she clutches my hand a bit more to show she heard me. She stands still for a while then, and a gentle breeze blows through the site. Elsa's braid is picked up by it and swirls behind her before landing on her opposite shoulder. My twin braids are just blown about haphazardly and I wish I had as much control over my hair as Elsa seems to. But complaining about my hair in a cemetery is kind of weird, so I put a stop to the thoughts and just fix them back over my shoulder once the wind dies down.

"Elsa?" I inquire after another moment of silence passes by. "Do you…want me to give you some space?"

I step up next to her as she nods her head in the affirmative. I mirror her nod and carefully extract my hand from hers.

"I'll be right over by the tree, okay?"

Another silent nod is my answer. I also take my leave in silence and trek over to a cherry blossom tree I had scouted on our walk over. My eyes scan each and every grave I pass, my silent respects going out to those buried despite me not knowing anything about them. Upon reaching the tree, I lean against its trunk and look back to Elsa, who has now sunk to her knees before her parents' graves.

I can see her mouth moving, but her voice doesn't reach me. As she's talking though, she glances my way once to see me looking back at her and a blush warms her face upon meeting my gaze. Averting her attention back in front of her, I see her bite her lip as she continues addressing her parents. I let a subtle grin be cast across my face.

She's talking about me again.

I strain to hear what's she saying; curiosity winning out over the aspect of privacy.

I don't get much, but what I do ignites a blush of my own across my face. I even feel it reach my ears.

"…in love with her…"

She has to mean me, right? That's not just me being blindingly optimistic again, is it? I mean, who else could she be talking about? She said herself that I was the first person she's interacted with, let alone talked to in the past fourteen months!

My stomach clenches at the idea.

Elsa might be in love with me; or at least falling for me.

And I already know for certain I'm in love with her.

Holy shit.

How do I address this? Should I not say anything and let things run their course as if I hadn't overheard her in the first place? Do I make a move of my own now that I know she feels the same? Do I let her make the first move? Will she, given everything else that has happened and is about to transpire in her life?

Damn, here come the questions again. I cast a glance up at the sky. Okay, God; I know I've doubted you before, but if you're really up there, I could go for some advice right about now. I'm a freaking eighteen year old kid; I've no idea how to maturely enter into a relationship without letting my hormones get the best of me. But I can't fuck this up. Damn it, I love this girl; I really do. I'm not going to mess this amazing opportunity up just because the entirety of my being wants to kiss the life out of her until she's breathless and begging for me to take her.

Wow, that sounds horrible and pathetic, doesn't it? I swear I'm not as shallow as I'm coming off as.

Guess I better just prove that, huh?

I hear the crunch of leaves and I fight my flushed, heated body back to normal as Elsa approaches. Looking up, I take her in. Her eyes are red, but no more tears have fallen, and better yet, she's smiling.

"So?" I prompt.

"We can go," she tells me. "I've…said all I needed to say."

I smile. "This is a beautiful place for them, you know?" I want her to know. "It's so peaceful. That's not creepy, is it?"

Her smile grows a bit as she shakes her head. "It is beautiful," she agrees. "And peaceful. My father always wanted to be buried here. His parents are in this cemetery as well and he loved that you were able to see Manhattan atop the hill and across the water. He took my mom here once to visit his parents, and she too fell in love with the area. Dad always said he wanted to be able to see Manhattan from his resting place. It let him feel like he would never have to leave, ever."

"My dad wants to be cremated," I feel a bit obligated to explain. "We take an annual trip to Lake Cumberland in Kentucky, and he said he wants us to cast his ashes into the lake. Mom refuses to think about what she wants at all."

"It may come when she least expects it," Elsa mumbles.

Taking her hand once more, I grasp it tightly.

"I keep trying to tell her that," I mumble as well. "I'll make sure to hound her even more now."

Elsa scoffs out a small chuckle before she turns to look over to the Manhattan skyline. I look as well, and take in the city from afar. I may not have lived here long, but several buildings immediately pop out to me. Namely the Empire State, Chrysler Building, and One World Trade Center, but a few others are becoming more and more familiar to me as well.

It's so different from Louisville, and I'm torn as I start to think where I would want to be put to rest. I can't help let my mind go down that path with the events of the morning, and find myself faced with yet another difficult question. What's home to me now? Where do I feel more of a bond? Granted, Louisville, Kentucky is my home and I have so many memories and ties to the area, but I've always wanted to move to New York City, and now I have. This is my home now, but does that mean Louisville no longer is? Can you have two homes?

I start to get a headache with the rampant thoughts my mind is trying to process all at once, so I shake my head fiercely to dispel them. There are other things to think about than death. Work; boxing; _Elsa_. I try to focus on those instead.

"You okay?" Elsa asks me, and I blush when I realize what that must have looked like to her, me randomly shaking my head at nothing.

"Yeah, fine," I reply with a quick huff. "Just…thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Hey!"

I bump her side with my own and she giggles in turn. We're both laughing in the middle of a cemetery, and maybe that seems strange to outsiders, but, to us, it doesn't matter. Life is what you make it. Light is where you bring it. If laughing in a cemetery makes Elsa more at ease when visiting her parents, then what's the harm?

"Oh," I exclaim as our laughter dies down. "Before we leave Brooklyn, I have to take you to this amazing burger place Kristoff showed me."

Elsa grins. "Sounds good; I'm starving."

As we make our way back to the entrance of the cemetery, Elsa leans over and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. Needless to say, I immediately erupt in red once more. Damn it, and that last blush had just faded.

"Thank you for coming with me, Anna."

"Anything for you, Elsa."

Still hand in hand, we make our way to the subway slowly, simply basking in each other's company and taking life as it comes. Glancing to the girl beside me, my smile grows; my courage and spark of hope building more and more.


	18. Chapter 17: Safety Net

**All aboard the fluff train for a bit before we're headed back into the Tunnel of Angst!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Safety Net<strong>

Lunch could have gone better. Not that there was really anything wrong, per se, rather I made it awkward because I was just being…well, me.

Want more specifics? Particularly, I barely picked at my food, busy deep in thought of what to do about my developing feelings for Elsa. I mean, I knew they were reciprocated now, right? Sure, some doubt still lingered, but my optimistic bone—yes, I have an optimistic _bone_—was screaming at me that I wouldn't learn anything by simply keeping quiet. Plus, you learn from your mistakes; isn't that what all parents teach their children? God knows my parents preached that to me left and right in childhood. So, even if Elsa _wasn't_ talking about me, I'll at least know, and can finally put it behind me. I'd still be her friend, definitely, and I'd probably still follow her around like a lost puppy, but I would _not_ allow myself to get hurt.

Of course, that was most likely easier said than done.

I had also yet to ask anyone out on a date, _ever_. Asking Elsa out to that day in the park was awkward enough, and that was simply a hang-out; nothing more. If I was to ask her out on a date-date, I knew I'd most likely end up in the hospital because I would either die from excitement from the answer yes, or heartbreak from the answer no.

Okay, so there I go being dramatic again, but everyone should be used to that by now.

"Really, Anna?" Elsa chides me one night at the gym. "That was your sloppiest form yet."

I flinch at her slightly condescending tone and turn to face her guiltily.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"You're thinking too much again. Whatever it's about, I don't know, but it's clearly affecting your focus."

_If you knew I was thinking about asking you out, would you cut me some slack?_ I wonder in my head. No way am I saying that out loud.

Still, would that constitute a clever way to ask her out? You know, rather than staring dreamily into her eyes and asking in every cliché way in the book?

"Anna!"

I jump, my hands coming up to protect my face instinctively. "I'm sorry!"

Elsa chuckles as she gently lowers my gloves away from my face. "It's okay, Anna," she's laughing. "I'm not going to hit you. Or yell at you." She looks away for a moment and gnaws at those…wait for it…supple lips. "I'm just worried."

"You are?"

"You've been spacing out a lot during training lately."

"I have?"

Of course I have, I grumble internally. Even a complete stranger could tell my head is rarely in the game anymore. God only knows how I managed to win the tournament. Best keep playing dumb for now; see where that gets me.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, a tinge of concern laced in her voice.

Gritting my teeth, I refuse to let myself meet her eyes.

"Yeah," I mumble, "I just…"

"You just…?"

My eyes squeeze shut of their own accord before I blurt out, "I want to take you out."

Her hands drop from mine, and I can feel my palms begin to sweat inside my gloves. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

Fuck. I totally just mucked everything up all over again. Of course.

And, fuck me again, Elsa looks absolutely terrified.

"You… What?" she whispers, like she can't understand the concept that anyone would want to go out with her.

And I know I can't back down now, so I take a deep breath and restate it, putting as much emotion as I can into those words so she knows I'm serious.

"I want to take you out, Elsa. To dinner. As in a date."

I watch her avert her gaze to the floor, but a flicker of hope ignites in me as I see the corners of her lips twitch upward in a telltale grin. I allow myself to begin to do the same.

"I was…" she whispers before clearing her throat, looking at me again with a flush of her cheeks. "I was thinking I was going to have to ask you first."

That spark of hope catches at her words and bursts into a full-fledged wildfire. Holy shit she wanted to ask me too all this time.

I was fucking right; she is falling for me. Hell to the yeah.

I grin and reach upwards to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. At the same time, I whisper, "Then you can ask me out on our second date."

She arches an eyebrow haughtily, though always with a smile. "You're so confident this first one will go well?"

Playing along, I reply, "Well, of course. It's me you're going out with. I'm the Date Master!"

Far from the truth, but I can roll with it.

"A real Cassanova, hm?" she inquires in a freaking sultry voice.

"T-Totally," I stutter, caught off guard by her tone as heat pools in my core.

"Then I accept," she tells me confidently, though her blush only increases.

Mine does the same as I manage to squeak out, "Great."

XxXxX

Needless to say, the morning after I ask Elsa out, I'm sprinting to Kristoff's like a madman. Pounding on his door, I wait with baited breath as he lumbers to the door.

"What?" he groans upon opening, and I know I've just woken him up. Usually I'd feel a bit sorry, but this is an emergency; this is life or death.

Well, to me, anyway.

"I need your help Kristoff because a few days ago Elsa and I went to the cemetery to visit her parents' graves and then I decided to give her some space but I overheard her say she thinks she was falling in love with 'her' and I was pretty sure that her was me, so I broke down at the gym last night and asked her out on a date-date and she said yes and now I'm freaking out 'cause I don't know the first thing about dating, nor do I know the city and where a good place for a date would be and I don't want to make it cliché, but that's kind of how everything's been with us so far so maybe I should keep to that but I want it to be perfect and you're my best friend so you need to help me make this date perfect, okay?"

I'm panting by the time I'm finished and Kristoff just stands there blinking at me, surely wondering where I get my energy when it's nine thirty in the morning on a Saturday. Stifling a yawn, he shakes his head.

"Anna," he starts, "I seriously only got like a fourth of that. Now, will you come in, eat some breakfast, calm down, and tell me again? _Slowly_?"

I resist the urge to smack him, because fuck if I'm going to remember all of that, but I also know I did just spit that at him and I probably hold the record for the longest run-on sentence in the world by now. So, half-heartedly I agree, and follow Kristoff inside.

We're seated at his kitchen table, me fishing cereal with a spoon while he scarfs down eight pieces of toast and two cups of coffee.

"So," he mumbles with his mouth full, halfway done with his fifth slice. "You asked Elsa out?"

I nod.

"And she said yes."

Another nod.

Kristoff begins his sixth piece. "So what's the problem?"

I let my head fall forward to hit the table, narrowly avoiding my full bowl of cereal.

"I have no clue what to do now!" I cry. "Kristoff, you know I've never dated anyone before! What the hell do I do?"

Kristoff scoffs at me like I've just asked if two plus two equals five.

"What do you mean, 'what do you do?' You take her out! Take her to dinner, walk around the city, talk, laugh, flirt." He sighs. "It's basically like any other day only now it has a label."

"O-Okay," I mutter. "I can do that; we've done all that already."

"Exactly, so just do it again," he tells me. "You're not asking her to marry you, just treating her."

"But it feels so much different!" I exclaim.

He shrugs, now finished with his breakfast and clearing the table. "It really shouldn't unless you let it. We give extra meaning to things we don't need to and then we think that immediately makes them harder. You want to know why so many dates fail? Because people try too hard. Just…act like it's any other day, and you're fine."

"Still, I want to make this special," I tell him. "I mean, Elsa still doesn't go out in public much so this is big step for her. I mean, do I make the effort to take us somewhere there aren't many people?"

A second shrug is part of my answer. "That's something you'll have to ask her, I suppose."

I groan. "So which way would have me coming off less awkward? Calling her up and being, like, 'hey, Elsa, I know you said you'd go out with me, but I also know you hate the public's eye, so should I reserve the entire restaurant just for us,' or just wing it and hope the people don't freak her out and know who she is?"

Kristoff chuckles as he ruffles my hair. "You're thinking too hard, Anna. What did I just tell you? Just put your heart into it without overdoing it and it will be fine. I know whatever you do, Elsa will be happy. She loves you, kiddo, whether she herself realizes it yet or not."

"Thanks, Kris," I mumble, smiling somewhat. "I just want to make her happy."

"You have," he responds. "More than either of you realize, I'm sure." He winks. "Go get her, girl."

Chuckling, I ask him one last thing.

"You got any recommended places to eat?"

XxXxX

It's seven o' clock at night, and I have every dress in my closet draped across my bed. And by every dress, I really just mean three; I've never much liked the clothing. I can't imagine trying to decide what to wear if I had more than what I have; this is too difficult already.

Do I go with black? Sure, black is good for all occasions, and the dress does look great on me; even I know that. At the same time though, it really draws out how many freckles I have, as well as pronouncing how red my hair truly is. I wish I knew if Elsa likes my freckles…

Then there's a blue and white floral patterned one. I immediately hang that one back up in the closet. It's too summery for it being late fall now, plus it makes me look like a little kid. I need to go into this date looking drop-dead hot. Sexy. I need Elsa staring at me with hooded eyes, not giggling at me because I remind her of a child.

The final dress is a short green dress. I would have to wear tights or leggings underneath it because it barely goes past half my thighs, but I do love its color. Emerald green; the color of trees back in Kentucky during the summer. I most likely just brought this dress with me to remind me of home. I never really thought green was my color since my hair is red and I tend to come off looking ready for Christmas, but Kristoff said he loved it. So, yeah, he's a guy and most men don't have valid opinions when it comes to a woman's clothing, but he's basically my older brother, so I tend to take his words to heart more than I would another guy.

So, black or green? I keep wondering what Elsa's wearing and that always brings a blush to my face and causes me to lose several minute's time as I busy myself fantasizing, but hell if I can help it. I mean, Elsa dressed up? The most dressed up I've seen her was those skinny jeans and cardigan in the park that day and I almost got a nosebleed just from that. What am I supposed to do when she answers the door in a stunning dress? I'm certain if I was in an anime show, my spirit would just exit my body immediately.

The image causes me to chuckle, and I reach for the green dress, knowing I'm wasting time. I told Elsa I'd be at her place by eight, and I still need to do my hair and makeup.

And I can't be late on the first date.

I halt halfway inside the bathroom.

_Date_. That's what tonight is: an actual, legitimate date. I'm taking Elsa out to dinner. I asked out _Elsa Arendelle_ and she said _yes_ to _me_. Me! The teenaged nobody from Kentucky. Me! The awkward little kid who can hardly say two sentences to Elsa without blushing.

I'm in fucking Nirvana as I finish getting ready.

By the time I'm heading to Elsa's, I'm surprised I managed to be on time. Grabbing a coat on the way out—because it's early November now and the cold has always bothered me—and sparing my hair and dress one last glance, I determine I'm ready. I had managed to put my hair up in a tight bun and weave a French braid in it, just like my mom used to do. I think I look pretty damn good, and while I'm sure I can't come close to holding a candle to Elsa's sure beauty, I still take some comfort.

It's eight o' clock on the dot when I exit the elevator on Elsa's floor. Shuffling nervously down the hallway, I pause before her door. Staring into the grooves on its wood base, I become pensive. So many big moments for me and Elsa have happened in front of and behind this door. Coming here for the first time and learning Elsa's secret; spending the night _twice_ and once _in her bed_; apologizing profusely in a monologue complete with flowers and chocolates. So many feelings arise when I think of this door, and yeah, that might be weird, but it's true.

Taking a deep breath to steel my nerves, I knock out my usual rhythm on the door.

And damn near collapse in a pile of molten heat when Elsa answers the door.

I knew she was going to look out of this world but…

Hot. _Damn_.

She's wearing a fucking suit!

"Hi, Anna," she greets me softly, and I'm only partially aware of her eyes scanning my attire with a blush as I just stand there gawking.

Holy hell, I never thought a woman in a suit could look so good. I mean, sure, I like a woman in a suit because just the idea is sexy, but Elsa pulls it off better than any other woman could even hope to. The jacket is a dark gray with a light blue shirt underneath, matching gray pants and black heels. Her hair is done in its signature braid and is draped elegantly over her shoulder.

"Am I dressed okay?" she asks me in a near whisper, and I come back to earth to find her chewing on her lip and hugging her right arm.

"'Okay?'" I repeat. "Elsa, you look freaking hot! I love women in suits!"

So maybe I should have toned that down a bit, but I did get a brilliant blush out of Elsa in return, so I refuse to take anything back.

"T-Thanks," she mumbles, looking shyly at the ground, and I have to physically restrain myself before I just push her back inside her apartment and forget all about dinner. "I'm not a fan of dresses."

I laugh and reply, "Me neither, but I doubt I could pull off the suit look."

She smiles more confidently and looks up at me. "I bet you could," she tells me before blushing once more. "You… You'd look good in anything."

I grin, not even trying to hide how happy her comment made me.

"Well then maybe we'll both wear suits next time!"

Trying my best to be romantic, yet comedic—because I'm just me—I bow slightly and extend a hand towards Elsa.

"So, my lady, shall we go to dinner?" I ask.

She giggles in turn and takes my hand with another shy utterance of, "Yes, please." And screw the fact that the person in the dress is escorting the person in the suit; Elsa and I are anything but ordinary.

I was hoping the weather would be a bit warmer so we could walk through the park to a restaurant on the other side and just chat—and flirt—for a while, but it just had to be cold, so I go with plan B. We turn a corner onto W 56th street and I see Elsa grin from the corner of my eye.

"I think I know where we're going," she says.

I match her grin and say, "Well, you live here—or have longer than me—so I wasn't trying to take you someplace new." Bumping her shoulder, I add, "But faking surprise will still make me feel good."

She chuckles as we come to a stop underneath a red awning, the name BASSO56 printed on the door before us. Sure enough, Elsa makes a point to gasp and look at me in mock surprise.

"I really had no idea," she exclaims with another grin.

I shrug my shoulders. "Kristoff actually suggested it," I mumble. "Me still being new to the city and all, I thought he'd have a good idea of where to go."

"So, he…knows?"

My eyes widen and I gulp, looking back to Elsa. "Was I not supposed to tell him? I'm so sorry, Elsa, I just got so excited and I needed help and he's always been there for me and-."

"Anna!" she interrupts with a small laugh. "It wasn't supposed to be kept secret. Maybe don't go flaunting it to the media or anything, but it's okay he knows. I was just wondering. I know how close the two of you are; I really didn't expect anything else."

I sigh. "Then don't scare me like that!" I cry. "Jesus, we haven't even sat down yet and I thought I had screwed the night up."

Elsa takes my arm and plants a kiss on my cheek—though I do take notice that she wandered awfully close to my lips for the first time.

"You didn't mess anything up, I promise," she whispers. "Don't sell yourself short, okay?"

I manage a numb nod. She smiles and pulls on my arm.

"Shall we go?"

Nodding with more vigor this time, I reach to open the door for her, whispering, "My lady," again as she passes.

I did make a point to get a table in the back of the restaurant so we would be somewhat excluded from the majority of the diners for Elsa's comfort. Though I had noticed on our walk here that she only looked around her twice compared to the near two dozen before and my chest swells with pride for her. She's getting there.

A waiter comes by in no time and fills our water glasses and takes our drink orders. I encourage Elsa to get a drink if she wants, claiming I don't mind her drinking in front of me since I don't much care for alcohol anyway. She does end up ordering a glass of wine, but assures me she will only have one. I am paying after all, she tells me with a wink.

"Sometimes it slips my mind how young you are," she partly mumbles under her breath as she watches me take a sip of my Coke through a straw.

"Is that awkward?" I ask with a tinge of worry.

Smiling, she shakes her head. "Not at all," she assures. "It means you don't act your age. In a good way. You're mature."

My smile becomes crooked as I mumble, "That's what happens when you're forced to grow up too soon."

Her smile quickly vanishes and a look of worry shadows her face. I see her questioning gaze and send her a somber smile before looking down at the table.

"I-It's nothing," I quip hastily.

Elsa reaches across the table and gently takes my hand, her fingers smoothing over my knuckles soothingly. I can't fend off the blush that overtakes my face.

"It's clearly not nothing, Anna," she whispers.

My smile flickers as I meet her gaze. "Well, it's not great first date material, at least."

She nods in understanding before swiftly dropping the subject. I don't intend to keep anything from her, but this really isn't the place to divulge secrets of my own. Elsa will come to find out; after all, it's only fair I confide the demons of my past in her since she did the same with me.

"So," I drawl out, trying to get back on track, "any…embarrassing high school stories?"

That draws a laugh out of Elsa, and we're instantly back on our predetermined course.

"Oh, where do I begin?"

The night goes smoothly from then on. Elsa and I share countless stories with each other. I find out about her high school affinity for math and how everyone hated her because she was so good at the subject and I tell her how Kristoff and I tried to play hooky from gym one day, but he ended up getting the seat of his pants stuck on the chain link fence we attempted to jump and so we spent the rest of the day in detention instead. She shares when she lost her mom in the mall one day and ran from store to store a crying mess until she found her, and I share the time I set off the car alarm at three in the morning and made everyone in our neighborhood hate our family for a week.

Our food comes and is amazing—because who can go wrong with Italian—but I honestly hardly taste it because Elsa is sitting right across from me, smiling and blushing and laughing; all because of me. Of course, she's doing the same to me, but I can't help feeling like it's a bigger deal with her. I mean, this is the girl who just months ago would barely say more than three words at a time to me. This is the girl I had such a hard time reading that I became frustrated to no end. This is the girl who ran from me when I came too close to discovering her secret too soon. We still had plenty of hurdles to make, but I couldn't deny the progress that had already been made.

And Elsa didn't even look around the restaurant the entire night once.

"Then our teacher came to our room to tell us to quiet down, as they could hear us laughing all the way down the hall," I finish a story of mine as we exit the restaurant hours later. Elsa has me by the arm again as she laughs at the retelling of a field trip from eighth grade.

"You were a rambunctious child, weren't you?" she asks with a grin.

"Nah," I reply with a shrug and smile, "I just got sucked in to the wrong crowd."

"Mm-hmm, sure. I'll make sure to ask Kristoff for the truth there."

"It's true!" I cry indignantly as she laughs again. "If anything, it's his fault! I mean, who wrestles their tiny-human sized dog?"

We make it back to Elsa's place before we know it. I walk her up the stoop before we come to a stop. She turns to face me and I immediately flush crimson, pushing imaginary hairs behind my ears.

"I had a great time tonight, Anna," she tells me sincerely.

"I-I did too," I mumble.

"You…want to come up for tea or coffee?"

I huff out a small laugh. "I stay at your place almost as much as mine."

She grins and snakes a hand up around my neck. "Is that a problem?" she croons in my ear.

I'm about to turn to jelly from her voice alone, never mind the hand now in my hair, but somehow I manage, "It is when I'm not getting my rent's worth."

"One cup of coffee?" she basically begs, eyes alight with mirth but with the soft undertone of hope.

Smiling, I turn my head to kiss her hand. "Okay."

Beaming, she pulls me inside.

Of course, one cup of coffee turns to two cups of coffee and a movie on TV before we eventually wind up snuggled in Elsa's bed once more. Not that I'm complaining, really. I mean, who would?

Halfway through the night though, I'm awakened by soft cries. I open my heavy eyes and roll over to see Elsa curled in on herself and in the pale light of the moon outside, I can see the tear tracks on her cheeks. She chokes on a sob in her sleep and my heart breaks.

She's having a dream; or a nightmare, more likely.

"Elsa," I whisper, stroking her cheek. "Hey."

Her eyes flutter open and I watch as they focus on me. They move to take in the hand wiping tears beneath her eye before zeroing back in on my face.

"Anna?" she asks, as if she's afraid I'm just a figment of her dream.

"It's me," I tell her with a soft smile. "Bad dream?"

She nods before huddling closer to me. My arms go to wrap around her as her hand clenches the borrowed t-shirt of hers I'm wearing in a fist. I'm only vaguely aware of her right arm wrapped around me to the best of its ability in a hug.

"Yeah," she sobs. "My p-parents."

I plant a kiss in her hair. "Do you dream of them often?"

I feel her nod into my chest.

Thinking of what I could possibly do to make her feel better, I roll to my back, pulling her with me so she's nestled against my side.

"I have nightmares a lot, too," I say.

I see her peek up at me. "You do?"

Nodding, I look down at her. "You know how you said I'm mature for my age at dinner?"

She nods. My hand begins to run through her hair.

"Well, it's about that."

"W-What happened?"

Closing my eyes, I tighten my hold on the girl in my arms.

"When I was eight, my cousin and uncle were murdered right in front of me."


	19. Chapter 18: Put 'Em Up

**Chapter Eighteen: Put 'Em Up**

I feel Elsa inhale sharply beside me as her fist tightens even more against my chest.

"Anna…" she mumbles.

My hand continues its methodical stroking of her hair as I assure her, "It's fine. I want you to know."

She props herself up somewhat against me and our eyes lock on the other.

"Okay," she whispers.

Heaving out a big sigh, I close my eyes again as I begin my tale.

"Like I said, I was eight. My cousin, Rapunzel, was ten. She lived in Louisville too, so we were constantly at the other's house, whether it was just a simple playdate or a sleepover. Neither of us had any siblings, so we were each other's best friend." Pausing to laugh, I add, "I actually remember her and Kristoff arguing when we were _really_ little who liked me more."

"It sounds like you have an amazing family," Elsa tells me softly.

I nod, my voice cracking a bit when I mumble, "I did."

Quickly wiping my eyes on the arm that's not holding Elsa, I go on. "I mean, they're still great. I wouldn't change Kristoff for the world, and my parents are amazing, but without Rapunzel… There's just like this hole, you know? It can never be filled."

I feel Elsa nod into my shirt, no doubt agreeing with my hole simile and likening it to her parents.

"So, I was spending the night at Rapunzel's one night and we had convinced her dad to take us to a movie. I don't even remember what it was now. Anyway, we were on our way home from the theater when we stopped for gas. Rapunzel's dad let us come in with him so we could pick out a snack while he paid. It was probably around ten at night. My uncle goes to the register to pay, Rapunzel and I are in the aisle with the candy and cookies, and there was another customer getting something to drink in one of the coolers against the wall. Then…"

My eyes open when I feel Elsa place a gentle kiss against my temple. Now her hand is tending to _my_ hair, no longer clinging to my shirt. I gulp and glance down at her right arm, the stump helping to prop her up in the bed.

"You're doing great, Anna," she whispers, and I can see the line of tears resting in her eyes, just waiting for the right moment to fall.

I smile at her and immediately think back to a month ago. It's funny how roles can reverse so suddenly, isn't it? Well, maybe that's not all that funny, more like startling. It shows you how fast life can change; and how fast those around you can change as well. We may appear like we have walls built around us, but we're really just waiting for the right person to come around so we can let them down. It's much easier to watch the walls crumble than build them up, that's for sure.

"Then this guy walked in," I finally continue. "Thinking back on it now, he looked like trouble: greasy hair, unkempt beard, smelly clothes, and I'll bet his breath smelled of liquor if I had been close enough. But, you don't really notice those kinds of things when you're eight, right? He was just another guy. Probably getting some gas just like us.

"I remember I had just picked up a pack of Oreos when I heard the shouting begin. Rapunzel and I looked up to see the man yelling at the man behind the counter. My uncle was still paying and was caught in the crossfire. He looked over to us and mouthed for us to get down. I think he had seen the gun by that point. Rapunzel immediately pulled me to the floor. I remember trying to ask what was going on, but she covered my mouth with her hand. Then the first shot went off. Rapunzel gasped beside me and stiffened. I felt my heart pick up, but it wasn't until the second shot and Rapunzel's scream that I realized what was happening."

Elsa's hand has now traveled down to my cheek, taking extra care to catch every one of my tears as they attempt to scale my face. Meanwhile, hers fall without any hindrance. I ache to reach up and brush them away as well, but in the midst of my story, I feel just as paralyzed as I had that night so many years ago.

"The second shot had hit my uncle in the head. Mom told me later that he was dead before he hit the floor and hadn't felt a thing. Rapunzel looked around the corner after the second shot and, after seeing her dad on the floor in a pool of blood, screamed, alerting the shooter to more witnesses. When the man turned to face us, the other person in the store shouted at us to run before he was shot as well. He was able to survive. I immediately got to my feet and started to run back towards the bathrooms, but halfway there I realized Rapunzel wasn't behind me. She was frozen staring at her dead father. Right as I spun back around, I heard another shot. The man was standing over Rapunzel, my cousin lying on the ground with a hole in her chest. She would bleed out before the medics arrived."

I pause to catch my breath, noticing only then that I am actually crying. Elsa remains beside me, soothing me with gentle shushes and even gentler caresses.

"I remember the man looking at me and cocking his gun again," I somehow manage to carry on, though I don't know how understandable I am at this point. "He had this wild look in his eye and he said, 'Just you, bitch.' I remember being stuck in fear. I don't even think I was crying; it's like all my tears were just as afraid as I was and refused to come out of hiding. I was standing right by the bathroom door; all I had to do was reach out and turn the handle, but I probably would have been too slow or too clumsy to manage to get inside before he shot me. The seconds that went by seemed endless, and even now the barrel of his gun haunts my dreams. I remember the loudest bang yet, falling backwards, and hitting my head on the tile floor before time returned to normal. I didn't even really know I was shot; I just knew all of a sudden I had a horrible stomach ache. The man returned to the front of the store, emptied the register, and fled. To this day he hasn't been caught."

"He hasn't?" Elsa echoes softly.

I shake my head, letting loose another flood of tears Elsa works to catch.

"Some nights I dream he was found and I testify against him in trial. Sometimes the dream turns out good and he goes to jail for life; other times he pulls out another gun and mows down everyone in the court room, including me. He stands over me then and sniggers, 'Got you this time, bitch.'"

Elsa gives up on my tears and chooses to instead bury herself back into my side.

"I woke up in the hospital the next night to find my mom beside my bed in tears and my dad consoling my aunt—they were siblings—out in the hallway. I never saw Rapunzel or my uncle, even at the funeral. Mom wouldn't let me anywhere near the caskets. Mom told me the doctors said I was lucky. The bullet had lodged itself in my left kidney, so they just removed it. I actually… I have the bullet. I remember asking my mom if I could keep it although I don't remember the reasoning behind it now," as I say this, I reach into my shirt and pull out a slim chain around my neck. At the bottom hangs a bullet, its point flattened and wrinkled. "She didn't want me to, but dad was able to convince her and the doctors otherwise. Now, I keep it for good luck and memory. It may be cryptic and weird, but I feel like I always have a piece of Rapunzel with me."

Elsa hesitantly reaches for the necklace. I see her, and take the necklace off, letting her inspect it more easily. She rolls the metal around in her fingers, a look of morbid fascination etched on her face.

"You… You were shot," she whispers.

"I was shot," I repeat in a mumble.

Clenching the bullet in a fist, she looks at me, a straggler tear escaping. Managing a small smile, I take the opportunity to brush it away, repaying the favor.

"If I… If I hadn't mentioned it at dinner, would you have ever told me?" she asks.

As she hands the bullet back and once it's safe around my neck again, I pull her back to me in a hug.

"Yes," I tell her. "I mean, you probably would've seen the necklace eventually, and I wanted you to know that my life wasn't as carefree as I try to make it seem. The night we fought, you said how could I know the pain you felt because my life was perfect-."

"Anna…"

"And I knew then you deserved to know," I finish despite her interruption. "I knew you didn't mean it, Elsa, but it did hurt a bit. We all have events we wish didn't happen. Maybe not all of them are as tragic as ours, but we all have them. We're all haunted by our own demons at night. Nobody's life is perfect, and I wanted you to know that mine is far from it. I'm not trying to justify my past is any worse than yours because who are we to compare each other's pain? I just want you to know that, to some extent, I _do_ feel your pain, Elsa. I may still have my parents, but I lost two family members all the same. I may still have both my arms, but I'm down a kidney. I know," I let out a small chuckle, "one kidney isn't as bad as an arm, but this is me trying to relate."

Elsa laughs softly, fiddling with the bullet again. "I know what you're trying to say, Anna," she tells me. "I'm not offended, and I'm sorry for anything I may have said that hurt you."

"It's all good," I reassure her, planting a kiss in her hair.

We're both quiet for a good time and I almost think Elsa's fallen back asleep on me—not that I would blame her, it's past four in the morning by now—but then she's speaking again.

"Does the pain ever get better?"

I smile somberly, knowing she means the pain of losing a loved one.

"A bit," I reply. "I mean, it's been ten years and I still broke down telling you all that. But on any given day, it doesn't ever cross my mind; or if it does, it's fleeting and passes with no pain."

"Do you ever feel like not feeling that pain means you're forgetting them?" she asks next, her hand back to fisting my shirt.

"Not at all," I tell her firmly. "Just because the pain ebbs, doesn't mean your memory does in the slightest. It's been ten years, Elsa, and I can still hear Rapunzel laughing at one of my jokes. I can still picture her sitting next to me on the couch. Sure, she's still a ten year old girl, and sometimes I wish I could have known what she would look like today, but I haven't forgotten her in the slightest. Same goes for my uncle."

When she doesn't say anything back immediately, I roll onto my side so I'm facing her. She's staring down at the sheets between us forlornly. Taking her chin in my hand, I guide her until she's looking back at me and flash her a cheesy grin. That elicits a laugh from her before I lean forward to kiss her forehead.

"You won't forget your parents, Elsa; I promise," I whisper. "Don't not let the pain go away in fear it means you're forgetting."

"Do you think…Rapunzel is proud of you?" she asks me next.

I see another tear trail down her cheek and instantly pull Elsa against me.

"Your parents are definitely proud of you, Elsa," I tell her. "They'll be proud of you no matter what happens. You visited them for the first time in a year the other day; that's something to be proud of. You befriended me; that's something to be proud of. You want to turn your life around; that's something to be proud of." I pull back and look her dead in the eye before I utter, "_You're_ something to be proud of, Elsa."

She pulls me back flush against her as a melodic mixture of laughter and cries echo in my ear.

"Thank you, Anna," she whimpers.

I remain quiet and simply rub her back as she all but nuzzles me—causing me to blush, of course. A few quiet moments pass as Elsa's sobs quiet to sniffles. I continue to hold her until all I'm met with are soft snores. Grinning ear to ear, I carefully pry her off me before covering her back up with the comforter, resituating myself as well.

Planting one final kiss on her cheek, I whisper, "Good night, Elsa. I love you."

I fall asleep that night with my face as red as my hair, praying to every higher power out there that Elsa truly was asleep and didn't hear that.

But it's not like it isn't true.

XxXxX

It's a week later when Elsa calls me early one morning in a panic, her words frantic and near indistinguishable.

"Hello?" I answer with a slur, having literally just rolled over and picked up my cell without looking at the caller id.

"Anna, are you home? You need to turn on the TV _now_. They know, Anna. They _know_!"

I look to my clock as I try to decipher what was said. Eight thirteen.

"Elsa?" I ask. "Is that you?"

"Anna, you need to turn on the TV!"

"Woah, woah, hey," I calmly shush her, moving to get out of bed. "Calm down, Elsa. I'm sorry, I just woke up."

"Sorry," she apologizes quickly. "But you need to see! It's _bad_, Anna!"

"Okay, okay," I attempt to soothe her. "I'm turning the TV on now."

I do so and am met with my PS4 home screen, remembering I was in the middle of an intense level of Tomb Raider before retiring to bed last night.

"What channel?" I ask, propping my phone between my shoulder and ear as I scour my small living room for the remote. Where could the damn thing possibly disappear to?

"Any news station," is her immediate answer. "I don't know how it spread so fast!"

"How _what_ spread so fast?" I can't help but snap, tired of her vague demands.

"Me!" is her distressed cry. "Me, Anna, me! _Us_!"

Finally finding the remote, I switch the input on the TV and punch in the number for the only local news station I've remembered so far. What immediately greets me makes my heart leap to my throat.

"Oh…" I mutter.

_"…sighted more in the past few weeks than the past year combined. And who is this mysterious girl being sighted with her more often than not? Is Elsa Arendelle finally reemerging from her hiding? Why now? Why so suddenly? And what's kept her back? All this and more is hoping to be discovered soon. But what are your thoughts on this, Joan?"_

As a different anchor begins to speak, I tune it out and instead focus on what is sure to have been playing on loop since the cast first began. Somehow, someone had caught footage of Elsa leaving her apartment and, dressed in her usual jacket, on her way to the gym to train me. Then there's a cut to a shot of Elsa and _me_ walking down the sidewalk and I realize with dread that it was from our date last week.

"Anna?" Elsa asks, and I remember I'm on the line with her. "Do you see?"

"Yeah," I mumble. "Yeah, I see it."

"How did they find out? I've been so careful!"

"I don't know, Elsa," I tell her softly, "but you knew this would happen eventually, right?"

"I just thought I'd be more ready," I hear her mumble, and I can just picture the frown on her face.

A moment of silence passes as we listen to each other breathe—is that creepy?

"Do you want me to come over?" I ask. "We can put a movie in; forget all about it."

"We have to train tonight, Anna," she tells me. "I have to go out tonight; I can't forget about it no matter how much I wish it." I hear her gasp lightly. "You don't think they're camped outside my building do you?" The thud of footsteps. "I can't see anybody, but then again I can't see the entrance to my building anyway. You don't think they're down there hoping I leave, do you? What if they see you?"

I can't help but chuckle as I make a mental note that frantic Elsa is cute Elsa, but then I focus once more when I realize that she's also scared. And, being the best potential girlfriend ever, it's my job to calm her down.

"They won't see me," I reassure her, "I promise. I'll sneak in through the side alley. That's _if_ they're out there, Elsa. Okay? Don't assume the worst."

"I'm trying, Anna," she whispers, and I can detect the wetness in her voice. "But…"

"I know," I soothe, "you're scared. And that's okay; just try and calm down, okay? I'm on my way. And I'll bring some ice cream this time, I swear. Screw the fact it's barely past eight in the morning."

"Okay," I hear her chuckle. "Thanks, Anna."

"Anything for you, Els," I reply with a smile, even though she'll never see it. "Be right there."

After a whisper of "goodbye," we hang up and I immediately dart back to my room to change. Thirty minutes later, I'm exiting the subway station closest to Elsa's place. Luckily, there's a CVS right across the street, so I dash in there and leave with a tub of Ben & Jerry's "Boom Chocolatta"—'cause, come on, it's _chocolate_. I'm standing at the intersection, waiting to cross the street and I scour the front of Elsa's building. There doesn't seem to be anyone from any news stations waiting outside. Still, to be careful, I pull my hood over my head and pull my hoodie tighter around me as I cross the street and near the building.

I'm able to walk right in the front door, not even needing to retreat to the alley, and even inside, there's no sight of the paparazzi. Grinning, but with a small sigh of relief, I lower my hood and approach the elevators.

Elsa's basically waiting for me when I knock on her door and she pulls me in, still obviously upset.

"Were they down there?" she asks.

Smiling, I shake my head. "Nope!" I chirp. "Able to enter through the main doors and everything." I see her open her mouth, but I cut her off with a grin, "But I put my hood up, just in case."

What is most likely her first smile of the day lights up her face and I mirror it before pulling out the ice cream from behind my back.

"You actually brought ice cream," she giggles as if she was sure I was joking—except I never joke around when ice cream is involved.

"_Chocolate_ ice cream," I correct with a laugh of my own. "Ready to eat your troubles away?"

She kisses me quickly on the forehead causing my body to heat up so much that I'm afraid the ice cream will start to melt.

"Sounds perfect."

So we spend the day having a movie marathon, binge-watching TV episodes on Netflix, and making runs to the CVS for more ice cream. We're having a great time, and by the time we're dozing off in the middle of our tenth episode of _Archer_, I'm confident the scare this morning has totally left Elsa's mind. Still, we're careful when leaving for the gym that night, Elsa sending me out first with my hood up and then ushering her out when I'm sure the coast is still clear. It may sound silly, and it kind of feels silly, but I know this is important to Elsa, and so it's important to me as well.

Plus I feel like I'm in the middle of a _Mission Impossible_ movie, so that's cool.

"You do realize the tournament's only two weeks away, right?" Elsa mentions later that night at the gym after I finish my first mile run.

"I know," I say. "I'm actually not freaking out yet."

"You shouldn't feel like you need to," she tells me as she wipes her face with a towel, getting off her own treadmill—she does the same routine I do until I do actual boxing training. "You _won_ the rookie tournament."

"Yeah, but that was for _rookies_," I scoff with a small laugh. "This is against real boxers."

"So, you weren't a real boxer when you won?" she grins.

"You know what I mean!"

Elsa starts to laugh at me and I have half a mind to spray her with my water bottle in retaliation, but that would be a waste of the precious liquid. Instead, I lightly shove her off the rower we're now sitting on.

"But seriously," I start once our giggles have died down, "you think I have a good shot?"

"I do," she returns. "Even without my training you, I believe you would have fared pretty well. You're a born boxer, Anna; all you need is some fine-tuning, which I hope I've been doing adequately."

"You'll come to this one, right?"

Elsa, who had been in the middle of strapping her feet in to the rowing machine, pauses. If she were a cat, I could picture her hair standing on end.

"I…"

"Please?" I basically whine when she trails off and doesn't seem to have the intent to continue.

She starts to row, with just an utterance of, "I'll think about it."

Knowing she doesn't wish to get into this at the moment, I leave it at that and start to row myself. The rest of the night goes by quick enough and I really get the sense I'm polishing up my skills until they shine. I've nearly perfected this combo Elsa and I have been working on since the beginning, and we've tested multiple sets with the goal to distract my opponent while landing swift, hard blows to knock them off balance.

By the time we enter Elsa's apartment again close to midnight, we're both adequately exhausted—me especially, since, you know, it's _me_ we're training.

"Um, I'm going to hop in the shower real quick," Elsa tells me as she peels her jacket off.

"Okay," I respond, not even bothering to ask if I'm welcome to spend the night again and just letting it come naturally. I can't hide the grin when I realize how easy things have become with Elsa and me. I mean, I'm spending the night _again_ and she didn't even really invite me; it's just a given.

"You can…order a pizza or something, if you want," she tells me as she retreats to her room. "There should be menus lying around somewhere."

"Roger that!" I shout, making my way into the kitchen.

When I hear the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on, my search for take-out menus becomes near frantic as I try to keep my mind off the fact that Elsa is showering right down the hall from me.

_Naked_.

Okay, so no shit she'd be naked if she's showering; she doesn't shower in her clothes, Anna, you doofus.

But still, it's… Ugh.

Damn hormones. I hope turning nineteen next year will help tame me, but that might just be wishful thinking.

Anyway, to make sure I significantly distract myself while Elsa does her thing in that one room, I pull out a Papa John's menu and busy myself with calling in an order. When I'm finished with that and can still hear the shower running, I dart to my borrowed gym bag—since I wasn't at my place to bring my own—and pull out a pair of earbuds I asked Elsa if I could use. Plugging them into my phone, I crank up the volume and hit shuffle.

Trying to keep myself busy even with the music now thudding in my ears, I make myself useful and begin cleaning up the countless empty ice cream containers, bowls, spoons, and drinks that have flooded Elsa's living room.

One of Kelly Clarkson's new songs begins to play and I really start to get into it, dancing through the living room as I continue to clean. I crank the music even louder—I've come to terms with the fact that I'll be deaf by the time I'm thirty long ago—as I love this girl and all her music.

"_You, where the hell did you come from_

_You're a different, different kind of fun_

_And I'm so used to feeling numb_

_Now, I've got pins and needles on my tongue_

_Anticipating what's to come_

_Like a finger on a loaded gun"_

I'm only semi-aware I'm singing out loud in an apartment that's not my own and that I usually reserve my singing concerts for my shower only, but what the hell. Elsa's still in the shower and I'm still on an adrenaline high from working out. I'm going to rock out for a bit.

"_I, I wasn't even going to go out_

_But I never would have had a doubt_

_If I had known where I'd be now_

_Your hands on my hips_

_And my kiss on your lips_

_Oh, I could do this for a lifetime"_

Isn't it weird when a song comes on that perfectly describes your life in that moment? I mean, does your iPhone secretly record what's going on in your life and then finds the best playlist to go along with it? What the hell sometimes, right?

But damn if this song isn't making me think of Elsa and me.

The chorus plays again and I spin around, getting ready to most likely do a head bang or swish my hair around when I realize I'm no longer the only occupant in the room. And it's not the pizza guy, because he couldn't get in on his own. That leaves only one person.

_Shit_.

I yank the headphones from my ears as if to act like I hadn't just been listening to music, singing, dancing, and having the time of my life. In Elsa's living room. While she watched for _gods know how long_.

"By all means, don't stop because of me," she says with a laugh.

I literally have no idea what to say. But of course Kelly Clarkson does as her song goes on repeat—'cause of course I let my fangirl show by putting her newest hit on repeat.

"Kelly Clarkson, huh?" Elsa quips then with a grin, hearing it blast from the earphones I'm clutching. "Don't really know that song, but I liked it."

I blush and avert my gaze to the floor.

"Sorry if I ruined it for you," I mumble.

Elsa giggles. "Anna, I said I _liked_ it. That means I liked your singing."

"Did you slip and hit your head in the shower or something, 'cause I think your hearing must be messed up," I continue to mutter under my breath.

Elsa rolls her eyes at me and lifts my chin so I'm looking at her face and her look that says, "Stop beating yourself up, Anna, I'm trying to compliment you."

"Wait," I blink, "you actually liked it? Like really?"

Elsa arches an eyebrow but grins. "Would I lie to you?"

"Would you?" I challenge, but grant a smile access.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me that and try not to be offended," Elsa scoffs, shoving me before taking one headphone and placing it in her ear before handing me the extra.

I situate it and nervously meet her eyes as we listen to the song together. Elsa has her face screwed like she's deep in thought and I'm just trying to keep my eyes off the gentle sway of her hips.

"Nope," Elsa sighs after a minute, looking to me and smiling. "Not as good as you."

I'm pretty sure I'm still blushing when the pizza finally comes twenty minutes later.

_This is my heartbeat song and I'm gonna play it_

_Turned it on_

_But I know you can take it up, up, up, up all night long_

_Oh, up, up all night long_

* * *

><p><strong>Um… Not a lot to say this time, actually. Although I have become slightly obsessed with that Kelly Clarkson song (Heartbeat Song) myself after discovering it fits this story so well. But anyway, fave, follow, review! Love you all!<strong>


	20. Chapter 19: Step into the Ring

**Sheesh, why is it so hard for me to write more than 4,000 words? **

**Anyway, tomorrow marks my last day of undergrad, and as of next Thursday at 11am when I hand in my last final, I will officially be a college graduate. Well, okay that part doesn't actually come until May, but the work's all done.**

**And yet I still can't find a job offering me more than minimum wage… **

**But you all don't clink on the link for this thing to read about my life, you want what comes afterwards (don't worry, I'm not offended!) so go on. Go get your angst.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ninet<strong>**een: Step into the Ring**

Another week passes before I find myself back in Milo Thatch's office and in a waiting room all too familiar to me. I swear, some ghost or something has lingered from my first visit and is hovering over me now taunting, "Come back to screw up again? What are you going to fuck up this time?"

However, I simply grit my teeth and bare it, knowing why I'm here today is for a completely different reason. Today I'm not returning to feed more lies in order to—fail—in unearthing possibilities for helping someone who had vehemently denied help. Today, I am here as merely a friend. Moral support. Cheerleader. Whatever else goes along with those.

Still, I can't help the anxiety of what Milo's going to say or think when he comes out and finds me not only sitting next to, but holding Elsa's hand. Is he going to put two and two together? I mean, the guy has a doctorate so the most obvious answer is yes, but will he call me out on it? Or will he just shrug it off and after talking with Elsa and realizing no damage was done—that wasn't fixed, that is—and I'll be off the hook and not interrogated by the entire practice?

"Anna?" Elsa asks, and I notice only then how hard I've been staring at an elderly gentleman on the opposite end of the room. "Are you okay? You're tenser than I am."

I glance down to our conjoined hands and notice with a grimace that I have Elsa's in such a vice grip that the tips of her fingers are turning purple—well, okay, not really, but almost.

"Sorry!" I yelp, releasing her hand and watching her rub feeling back into it guiltily. "I didn't kill your hand, did I?"

She chuckles. "Come on; nothing can be as bad as my other, right?"

My heart stops as I stare at her, blinking.

"Elsa…" I mumble. "Do you…realize what you just said?"

Her smile evaporates to a frown. "Was that bad?"

"No!" I cry, turning to face her as fully as I can in these uncomfortable chairs. "I mean, if it didn't hurt you to say it, that's good! I mean, I'm no therapist, but to me, if you're able to make light out of something that used to bring you such pain, that's a step forward!"

"And that's why I'm here, right?" she asks me with a small smile.

"Right!"

"Do you do that?" she asks me with slight hesitancy. "Make light of your past?"

"I suppose it took a bit longer since I was a kid and more resilient so I never really thought about the psychological and physical effects until much later, but yeah, I do. Kristoff and I always joke about my missing kidney."

"Do you ever feel guilty afterwards?"

"Do you feel guilty now?"

She blushes as she looks at the ground. She responds in a whisper, "No."

I smile and take her hand—much softer this time, mind you. "Then don't beat yourself up for it," I tell her. "We all have different methods of coping. If making fun of our defects helps, then who is anyone else to judge? No harm, no foul, right?"

"I suppose," she mutters.

My smile grows as I bump her shoulder. "It'll come easier, trust me."

"Okay." She smiles back.

The door opens then and Milo steps out. "Elsa Arendelle?"

Elsa looks up, her smile vanishes, and her grip on my hand tightens. She stands, dragging me along as we approach the man.

"Good morning, Elsa," he smiles at her. Then he looks to me, and I see the glint of recognition in his eyes. Gulping, I remain quiet until he smiles at me as well. "Who is this?"

I feel all the tension leave my body. Bless you, Dr Thatch.

"This is Anna," she introduces. "She's my, uh…she's my friend. Good friend."

My stomach lurches pleasantly at her pause as well at the fact that she's blushing as she speaks and glances my way shyly. I can't fight my own blush as I avert my gaze. I'm sure our continuing to hold each other's hand is doing nothing to salvage the situation. I can just picture Milo's smug smile as he recalls my meeting with him. I know he recalls asking me if I loved Elsa—while at the time, he might not have been aware "him" was in fact a _her_—and now that I had come to terms with the fact that, yes, I did indeed love Elsa, I was afraid what would happen if I opened my mouth.

Needless to say, Elsa was still unaware of truly how deep my affections for her lay and I was not about to confess my unyielding love for her in the middle of a doctor's office.

When I hear Elsa answer a question I completely missed from Milo with "three months," I realize he must have asked her how long we've known each other. Immediately upon answering, a smile lights up his face.

"Elsa, that's great!" he exclaims. "Last time we met you were so closed off and reserved still, but look at you now!"

"I…" Elsa blushes again as she looks away from the both of us, though her grip remains tight on my hand. "I guess I just needed to find the right person."

My face reddens.

"Well, I'm happy for the both of you," he says, and I roll my eyes internally as my heart leaps to my throat—could he have sounded any more like a father giving his blessing to his daughter? "And especially proud of you, Elsa."

"Thanks," she mumbles.

"You ready to come back to my office so we can further catch up?" he asks next.

Elsa looks to me then and I see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

"Can…she come with me?" she asks. "I know I'm your patient and confidentiality and whatever, but if I want it, doesn't that make it okay? I… I n-need her with me."

I squeeze her hand, hoping to express my thanks and gratitude that she thinks so highly of me. She squeezes back.

Milo looks unsure for all of five seconds before he sighs.

"I suppose I don't see why not," he says. "I'll just need you to sign a consent form and Anna a confidentially form."

"I won't speak a word to anyone but Elsa, I swear," I pipe up finally.

My words seeming to satisfy him, he goes to the front desk and asks for the forms, returning to us and handing a clipboard to me.

"Sign at the bottom of each of those and we're good to go," he tells me.

I nod and take the clipboard from him, signing the confidentiality one where designated before handing it to Elsa. She signs the consent one and gives it back to Milo. Nodding once more, he tucks the board under him arm before opening the door and gesturing us through. Elsa takes my hand again as we follow him back to his office.

"How long has it been since you've seen him?" I whisper to her.

"Six months," she mumbles back. "I…wasn't very cooperative the last time we met; hell, most likely ever. This is my…fourth time seeing him?"

"But I'm changing that?" I ask with a smile, although the question is actually serious in nature. I keep worrying that Elsa's forcing herself into this simply to placate me, and I don't want that.

"You're changing everything," she tells me, and suddenly the hallway feels like the route to Hell with how hot it gets. "I know what you're thinking, Anna, and—while part of me is beginning to doubt myself with each step I take—I know I'm really ready. You're not pushing me into anything. I want this. I have for a long time."

"I just provided the push," I add.

"One that sent us tumbling down a steep slope into a hole we both thought we'd never be able to climb out of, but we managed."

I grin and can't help but squeeze her hand once more as we come to a stop in front of Milo who is at the door of his office, just smiling at us like he heard everything that was just said. I sure hope he didn't; that would be embarrassing.

Once the three of us are situated back in Milo's dark office—seriously, is it supposed to be more ambient like this or something?—Elsa and I await Milo's first prompt. Elsa is staring at the floor, I'm looking back and forth between Elsa and a picture on Milo's computer screen of him and some white-haired lady, and Milo is preparing his notepad for the session. I also notice Elsa still refuses to let my hand go, even now.

Not that I'm going say anything, but damn, she must really hate this place.

"I know I mentioned this in the waiting room," Milo finally begins, "but I want you to know, Elsa, how proud I am. Not only have you made a seemingly great friend in Anna, but I was also pleasantly surprised when you were the one who called me to ask to see me."

Elsa doesn't say anything to that and continues her staring contest with the floor. I glance to her and, unconsciously, my thumb begins to caress the back of her hand.

"You didn't say much over the phone," Milo continues to prod. "Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about today?"

When Elsa still doesn't answer after a minute, I glance her way to find her biting her lip and staring at her brace. I extract my hand from hers—which is hard, because she is still holding on to it like her life depends on it—and place it instead on her back where I start to work soothing circles across her shoulders.

"Tell him, Elsa," I prod gently. "He'll be happy."

I see Milo nod in my peripherals before Elsa sighs heavily and meets his eyes for the first time.

"I…" she whispers before clearing her throat. "I want to get a prosthetic."

Milo's eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline, but there's a big grin that splits his face at the same time.

"That's wonderful, Elsa!" he exclaims, to which Elsa quirks a smile. "What brought about this change of heart, if I may ask?"

"Anna…" she's whispering again, and I'm blushing because it sounds like she's just going to leave it at that, but she eventually continues. "I guess Anna…helped me realize that the way I've been living hasn't really been living, you know? I'm…sorry I bit your head off every time you recommended it to me before. I guess I… I just needed time."

"Nothing wrong with that," he says. "Death and injury take a toll on a person, and everyone copes differently. It may take a while to get to that point of bereavement where you finally feel like you can stand on your own two feet again."

I grin. Well I'll be damned; that's almost exactly what I've been telling her. Maybe I should think about pursuing a psychology degree!

When Elsa just nods before looking down at the floor again, Milo continues.

"Have you thought about the kind you want to pursue? Have you decided you want a prosthetic over a transplant?"

Elsa visibly shivers before she can hide it and quickly says, "No transplant. I can't… I couldn't deal with that."

"Why not?" Milo scribbles on his pad.

Elsa makes a face that looks like he just asked her to run down the street naked or something.

"Because it's someone else's arm!" she cries. "A dead person's! I already wake up each morning having to stare at a fucking stump; and I think I'd take that over waking up to some dead guy's arm I'm supposed to pretend is the one I lost! And that's saying something."

I squeeze Elsa's shoulder as she quiets down, turning to grasp her hand with my other.

"Hey, Elsa, it's okay," I hush. "He was just asking."

"I… I know," Elsa hiccups. "I just… That thought terrifies me more than a simple prosthetic." Looking to Milo, she mumbles, "Sorry I shouted."

Not too surprisingly, Milo just smiles gently at her. "Not a problem, Elsa. I'd rather have you show emotion of any kind versus keeping it all inside."

Elsa nods and looks to me. I beam. "You're doing great."

She smiles.

"So, no transplant," Milo restates, returning to his note taking. "What kind of prosthetic were you thinking of? Have you done any research?"

Elsa tells him about my coming to her house a few days ago to attempt the conversation of options once more. I told her of the webpage I found about the Columbia University students and their trial, and that I thought it'd be perfect for her because of the sleeve that wouldn't allow anyone to know any different. She hadn't said much that night, simply nodded along to my explanation and saying she'd think about it when I left. Apparently, she must have spent all night and the entire morning thinking because it wasn't two the following afternoon when she called me saying she'd come to a decision. Then she called Milo to make an appointment; make sure what steps to take from here.

"So is there…anything I should do before I d-do this?" Elsa asks once she's finished explaining.

"I suppose I only have one recommendation," Milo begins, leaning forward a bit, "and it's the same one I made before."

"The group thing?" Elsa asks quietly, and I can almost see the hesitancy on her face.

Milo nods. "I think it would be good regardless of what you do, but especially if you want to make the journey of acquiring a prosthetic _and_ participating in a clinical trial. It would be immensely beneficial. I know you have Anna, but it will do you good to surround yourself with others in your situation; others who have dealt with the same kind of loss."

"But she has…experienced the same kind of loss," Elsa replies, looking to me briefly.

"I haven't lost a limb though, Elsa," I tell her. "As much as I'll try anyway, I can't help you like you need to be helped in that regard."

"But I don't want people to know!" she shouts, becoming agitated again. "I mean, the media already has caught wind of me, what will they do when they learn I'm in _therapy_?" Her eyes widen and I see all color leave her face. "They're going to find out, aren't they? Everything I've built up in the past year is going to crumble down."

"But you want that, Elsa," I remind her. "You told me so, remember? That's why we've become such good friends; it's why you visited your parents for the first time in a year; it's why you went out on a date with me; it's why you called me the other day and said you wanted to do the trial. You _want _the walls to come down."

"You can't let that worry you, Elsa," Milo adds. "I know it's a scary thought, but the truth will come out eventually; whether you reveal the truth yourself or the media comes up with speculation is up to you. You know people in this city adore you, Elsa; they'll understand."

"I just…" she trails off.

"I honestly just can't advise going in to this trial without first talking to others," Milo presses. "It will teach you what's coming up while you're in the process of getting the prosthetic, what to expect in rehab, the psychological effects of it, and how to cope with the change. I won't lie, Elsa; getting a prosthetic can be just as much of a challenge as a transplant. You'll need the support. More support than just Anna can give."

"Can she… Can she c-come with m-me?" Elsa asks next.

Milo smiles somberly. "That's up to the group," he replies. "But Elsa, you need to learn to support yourself. You can't rely on someone else to pull you through the difficult times."

"But she promised she would help me!"

I turn to face Elsa, and squeeze her hand to comfort her. "I will," I tell her with all the conviction I can muster. "I'm not going anywhere, Elsa, and you know that. But Milo is right; as much as you know I'd love to, I can't be with you twenty-four-seven."

Elsa's still silent for a bit and I feel my stomach lurch because for the first time this afternoon, I can't tell what's she thinking or feeling. Her eyes are glossed over, a hardened look darkening those sapphire irises, her lips set in a firm line. When she blinks, a lone crystal tear leaks from her eye. Lovingly, I reach out to wipe it away.

Elsa breaks then. Emitting a strangled sob, she has me in a hug, shaking and heaving. I look to Milo to see him looking pensive, but then he looks to me and flashes a smile.

_She'll be okay_, he mouths.

Nodding, I resume rubbing her back, tightening my hold around her. Not caring that Milo is right beside us, I turn to plant soft caresses of kisses upon her damp cheek, quietly hushing her and whispering that's she's okay; everything's going to be okay.

I can only hope I'm right. For Elsa's sake.

XxXxX

After we left Milo's office, I took Elsa back to my place to shake things up—and also to start repaying her for all the time I've spent at her place—knowing she wouldn't protest after she passed out on my shoulder on the subway. I couldn't keep the dopey grin off my face the entire ride. I regrettably had to wake her up when we reached my stop as I knew couldn't carry her all the way back to my place. Forget all the working out I do, carrying a person four blocks is just _awkward_ never mind difficult. Plus, it wouldn't help in the Don't Let Elsa Be Noticed department. Oh yeah, hey, don't mind me; just this random nobody carrying a sleeping Elsa Arendelle down the streets of New York City, no biggie.

Damn, I think, now back at my place and lounging on my couch as Elsa sleeps in my bed. Even _I'm_ drained from the session, and I wasn't even the one receiving therapy. I can only imagine how Elsa feels.

No wonder she hates the place so much. I didn't even cry like she did and I still feel completely drained emotionally.

Later that night, our roles reverse when I crawl into _my_ bed beside Elsa, who—the poor thing—is still sleeping. After situating myself under the covers, she shifts beside me.

"Anna?" she calls quietly, surely disoriented.

"I'm here," I reply, running a hand through her braid.

She turns over so we're facing each other, a pair of matching smiles mirroring each other.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hi," I echo just as softly.

"I'm at your place, aren't I?"

I smile, but look down at the sheets between us, a bit embarrassed. "I know it's not as glamourous as yours, and this bed is probably like a cot compared to your bed but…"

She huddles closer to me and tucks her head beneath my chin.

"It's perfect, Anna."

"You're still tired," I tell her, teasing her a bit. "Wait until morning when the sun hits the walls just right and you can see the off-white color in all its ugly glory."

She giggles, and I laugh as well, the breath from her expel tickling the skin of my neck.

"What if off-white is my favorite color?"

I press my nose into her hair to hide the smile that's about to crack open my face.

"Then you need to reevaluate your life choices."

We fall into such a fit of laughter that I'm surprised my upstairs neighbor isn't banging on the floor to shut us up. Once we finally settle down, we let the silence drift between us lazily, and I hum as I feel Elsa begin to trace patterns on my chest.

"Hey, Elsa?" I ask after a minute.

"Hm?" she responds.

"I know this is completely random, but…" I pause and push away from her gently. She's looking at me with a frown. "T-Thanksgiving is next week…and the tournament is the following Monday. I was going to fly home to visit my parents for the holidays and I was wondering if… I mean, you totally don't have to, I won't be offended or anything but… Would you… I mean, I'd like it if…"

"Anna," Elsa giggles, kissing my cheek to shut me up. "What is it?"

"Would you like to spend Thanksgiving with my family and me?" I blurt, just I did when I asked her out.

Her eyes widen a bit, no doubt surprised at the proposition. I have to admit, I kind of am as well. I meant it when I said it was random, because the idea literally _just_ popped into my head before I vocalized it and I sure haven't mentioned anything to my parents about bringing a friend to Thanksgiving dinner, but it's not like we're a traditional family, so it shouldn't be a problem, unless mom's inviting other people over this year and…

Fuck, I even ramble in my _head_.

"O-Obviously I'd be back here before the tournament Monday, but…" I bite my lip for a moment. "I thought it'd be a nice change of pace? No training, no worries about what's to come, no need to keep a guard up around anyone; just a small holiday with me? Your favorite person ever?"

She laughs at the last part and I smile. Looking up to me, my heart picks up when I see a smile of her own.

"If your parents are okay with that, I'd love to, Anna."

I beam.

Time to call up mom and dad.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, one last thing… THIS STORY HAS NOW BROKEN ALL PREVIOUS RECORDS OF MINE! It's the longest one out there chapter-wise (or at least it will be with the next update) AND word count-wise, has the most follows AND reviews, not to mention all the fan art. This is now my baby. I am proud of my baby.<strong>

**And I'm proud my baby has such loyal fans like you all. **

***Cue motherly cries***


	21. Chapter 20: Reprieve

**I'm just going to go ahead and assume this is going to be the chapter most of you all have been waiting for. ;)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty: Reprieve <strong>

"So I only need to pack two changes of clothes, right?"

"Yup!" I call, moving around my bedroom as I talk to Elsa at the same time, my phone sitting on my bed on speaker. "We'll be back by Saturday afternoon."

"And you're _sure_ your parents are okay with me staying with you all?" is her next question.

Laughing, I sit down on my bed and pick up the phone. "Elsa, I _swear_, okay? They're thrilled to meet you."

I'm met with a brief silence before I hear her speak again, this time with a hint of nervousness present in her tone.

"What…have you told them?"

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place the phone back on my bed and return to the closet.

"What do you want me to tell them?" I ask back. Not really needing an answer from her, I continue, "I told them you're a friend who boxes like me. They know you're shy, so hopefully they won't hound you with questions, but I can't make any promises knowing my mom."

"Do they know about my parents?" she asks. "They weren't curious why I'm not spending the holiday with my family?"

"They asked," I tell her truthfully. "But I told them that's for you to answer, and only _if_ you want to."

"And they accepted that without question?"

I can't help but chuckle, yet roll my eyes as well. "_Yes,_ Elsa. I don't know what kind of people you think my parents are, but they aren't going to grill you about your past, present, or future unless you're willing. This is Thanksgiving dinner, not you asking for my hand in marriage."

"M-Marriage?!" Elsa gasps on the other line.

"It was a joke, Els," I say, though I'm slightly red in the face myself. When she doesn't say anything back, I ask, "Are you okay? Do you want me to come over, or you to come over here? Do you not want to come anymore?"

"No!" she cries immediately. "I-I mean, no, I still want to come, Anna, I promise. I just…" I hear her take a deep breath before she expels on the exhale, "I've been thinking about how to reintroduce myself to the public. Like…news-wise and all that."

"Really?!" I exclaim before I can dial down my excitement. "That's great, Elsa!"

"Wish I could say the same…" she mumbles.

"Hey," my voice softens, "it's supposed to be hard. But Elsa, I swear, you'll feel so much better after doing so. Milo's right, you know. This city loves you. They're not going to scorn you or think any less of you because you lost your arm in an accident you had no control over. And if they do, then they're losers anyway and were never your fans to begin with."

"I've just never done well with public speaking in general," she's telling me, "so having to do so _and_ recount something so awful to mere strangers is terrifying."

"You know I'll be right there beside you the whole time, right?"

A beat.

"You will?" a quiet whisper.

"If you want me."

I can almost see the blush on Elsa's face. "Always, Anna."

XxXxX

"Anna!" my mother cries immediately upon opening the door. "It's so good to see you!"

"It's only been a few months, mom," I tell her with a laugh, extracting myself from the tangle of her hug.

"Oh, well _excuse me_," she jokes, "didn't know my daughter would come home a snob after only three and a half months in the Big Apple."

"I'm not a snob, mom," I grumble, although there is a smile on my face the entire time.

Good to know nothing's seemed to change.

"And this beautiful lady behind you must be Elsa?" mom's saying next, peering behind me to Elsa who's standing a few steps behind me on the front porch, eyes averted the ground, small smile budding on her face.

"Yeah!" I immediately perk up. Turning around, I smile myself, take Elsa's hand and pull her gently forward. "Mom, this is Elsa, my friend I told you about on the phone."

"You failed to mention how gorgeous she is," mom chides me, to which Elsa and I immediately flush.

"_Mom_!" I screech.

"Is she your gir-?"

"_No_!"

"Ah, but you want her to be."

Hanging my head in defeat, I huff. "Can we just come inside please? And resume teasing me at dinner? I'm sure dad's itching to get in on this as well."

"Oh yes, he's gathering all the baby pictures as we speak."

I nearly turn tail and retreat to the airport right then.

My family, ladies and gentlemen. Believe me, you learn to love them, but it can be a trying process. Try growing up with them.

Mom finally takes our bags from their spot on the porch before returning inside to tend to dinner still cooking, finally leaving me and Elsa alone. Head down in overwhelming embarrassment, I turn to face Elsa.

"So, regretting this decision yet?" I ask forlornly.

I'm surprised when I get a laugh as an answer. Looking up in surprise, I see Elsa hiding her laughter behind her hand in her signature form.

"Actually, I think this might be the best decision I ever made," she says with a big grin. "I'm already in love with your mom." Walking past me, she tugs me towards the door, still wide open after my mother's departure. Looking over her shoulder, her grin widens as she winks at me. "You going to introduce me to your dad or what, _girlfriend_?"

I swear my head implodes in a mushroom cloud with her utterance of the G-word, and I only stumble inside because I'm so shell-shocked. I know she was joking, but Elsa just called me her freaking girlfriend!

And fuck it, I _loved_ it.

But damn it, I really need to tell her my true feelings before we get much further along. Only then will I truly be able to revel in the feeling of hearing that word flow so elegantly from her lips.

And suddenly, the perfect way to tell her comes to me. I'm going to do it tonight.

I _have_ to. _Need_ to.

Surprisingly, the rest of the whole "meet the parents" ordeal goes by without a hitch or much more embarrassment on my part. Dad's waiting inside for us in the living room when we finally walk inside and he welcomes Elsa into our house with open arms. The three of us make small talk for a bit before mom calls us into the dining room saying dinner is finally ready. Dad and I set the table while Elsa and mom bring out the food from the kitchen. We all sit down, mom and dad at each head of the table, Elsa and I sitting across from the other.

"So," dad begins once our plates are full, "shall we go around and say what we're thankful for in the spirit of the holiday?"

Elsa and I glance at each other before I shrug and acquiesce. Dad starts by saying he's thankful for the raise he received at his job a month ago and that I seem to be doing well on my own in New York. Mom goes next and says she's thankful "her baby" came home for the holidays and that I seem the happiest I've been in years. All eyes turn to me and I look down at my plate of food.

"Well, I'm thankful I won the rookie tournament last month," I start, to which mom interrupts with a gasp.

"You did?!" she cries. "Anna, why didn't you tell us?"

I flush and mumble, "I wanted to wait until I won the real tournament on Monday."

"You mean you're already competing again?" dad asks.

"Not just that," Elsa cuts in with a grin, "she got invited to do so by the commissioner of the tournament himself. Didn't even have to try out."

"Oh, my baby!"

"_Mom_…"

Elsa giggles and I shoot her a glare.

"_Anyway_," I stress, signaling we're getting back on track. "I'm thankful I also have the opportunity to compete on Monday and that I made such a good friend in Elsa."

This time it's Elsa's turn to blush, and I see my parents exchange knowing glances with the other as they look between my smug grin and Elsa's red cheeks as she fumbles with her hands in her lap.

"Well, um…" she trails off. "I'm… I'm thankful I met Anna." She meets my gaze and smiles as she finishes with, "I'm thankful she stuck by me and is helping me turn my life around."

There's a moment of silence as Elsa and I stare at each other, identical blushes lighting our cheeks, before we simultaneously look away to poke at our food.

"Turn your…life around?" my dad questions hesitantly, looking at Elsa curiously.

"_Dad_."

He looks to me. "What? If she doesn't want to answer, that's fine. You said not to push her, we can ask still, right?"

I groan and hang my head, somewhat ashamed of my parents' curiosity. Guess that's where mine comes from.

"It's alright, Anna," Elsa says softly. I look back up at her and she shrugs, though she does look a bit unnerved. "It's good practice, right?"

"I suppose," I mumble.

Now mom and dad are looking back and forth between us, fully aware there's something more going on here than we're letting on.

Clearing her throat, Elsa glances to both my mom and dad before focusing back on her lap.

"My… My parents passed away last year; that's why I'm not spending the holidays with them. The three of us were in a car wreck. I fell into a coma and…and l-lost my right arm."

When she's finished, mom's clutching at her heart with tears in her eyes and dad's looking at Elsa's right arm with a face that almost looks as though he regrets bringing it up.

"Oh, honey," my mom addresses Elsa. "I'm so sorry."

Elsa dons a lopsided smile. "It's… I'm starting to understand it's okay," she replies. Looking back at me, she blushes once more. "Anna's helped me understand that."

My dad chuckles softly. "That's our girl," he says. "Always willing to help."

"Sometimes too willing," I mumble bitterly.

And so, that's how I tell beginning to end—with some input throughout from Elsa and her point of view—how I met Elsa, pursued her, helped her, and promised her I wouldn't let her suffer through this alone.

Leaving out the part, of course, where I fell in love with her.

"And so Monday I compete in the national tournament, thanks to Elsa," I finish, the plates before the four of us long since cleared.

"And I plan to make an announcement to the media about my sudden disappearance and start working on getting a prosthetic," Elsa adds.

"Sounds like you both have a long road ahead of you," dad tells us. "Although, I'm sure as long as you have each other, it can't be any worse than what you both have already overcome."

"If you ever need anything, though, Elsa, please know you now have us to turn to," my mother states. "Any friend of Anna is part of this family."

Elsa smiles warmly and looks between both my parents. "Thank you both."

My mom mirrors her smile briefly before clapping her hands together. "So," she breathes, "after that heartfelt moment, who's in the mood for some pie and coffee?"

I chuckle before glancing to Elsa.

"Actually," I begin, "can you save me and Elsa a slice? I want to…talk to her."

Elsa looks to me curiously but I just send her a soft smile. Mom shrugs and dad stands to collect the dishes.

"I see," he says. "You're just trying to get out of dish duty."

"Hey!" I cry indignantly to which Elsa laughs. "So not true!"

"Just kidding, kiddo," he tells me with a wink. "You and Elsa go chat. There'll still be plenty of dessert left when you return."

Thanking them both quickly, I dash to other side of the table and take Elsa's hand, pulling her from her chair.

"Wait, Anna!" she cries. "W-What are you doing?"

"Trust me," I tell her as I lead her out the back door and to the yard. "I need to do something I should have done a long time ago."

"O-Okay."

The backyard of our house is bordered by a nature preserve. As a kid, Kristoff and I played for hours upon hours back here in its many paths, fields and groves. We'd splash in the creeks, roll down the hills, hike, and even get lost on a couple of occasions. Even when he wasn't with me, I'd disappear in it sometimes when life got too stressful. Especially after Rapunzel's death, I found myself spending consequent days back here, just thinking about anything and everything.

It was on one of those days when I discovered what I had dubbed my secret area. It became a sort of safe haven to me. I never told my parents about it, nor Kristoff. It was my treasure trove and mine alone.

But now, I wanted to share it with Elsa. It was the perfect place—the _only_ place—where I could say what I wanted to say freely.

"What is this place?" Elsa asks as I lead her down a staircase my dad built years ago which branched the private part of the reserve—where our subdivision was built—to the public part. After I took a particularly nasty tumble down the hill as a kid, dad thought a staircase was needed.

"It's a nature preserve," I explain. "There's hiking trails and stuff. You wouldn't believe how much time Kristoff and I spent back here as kids."

"We're going hiking?" Elsa questions. "Won't it be getting dark soon?"

"It's five o' clock, Elsa," I reply with a chuckle. "We have at least an hour and a half, plus," I shrug the backpack I had grabbed hanging on my shoulder, "I have a flashlight if it does get dark, and a blanket and hoodies if we get cold."

"This couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"No," I say sternly. "I need… I need to do this. Tonight." I squeeze her hand and look over my shoulder at her. "Just trust me, okay?"

I feel her squeeze my hand back. "Okay," she breathes.

I continue to lead her through the woods, following the paths like an expert. Elsa stays quiet as she obediently follows and I can't keep the smile off my face. I never could be anything but happy and at peace back here. It's just so…well, peaceful. Hell, I think I may have even spent a couple nights back here during my teenaged years.

Eventually however, I realize we've been walking for a while as Elsa finally speaks up again.

"How much further?" she asks, beginning to breathe heavily as we continue up a considerably steep hill.

"It's at the top of this hill, I swear," I tell her.

"You better know how to get us back, Anna," she says sternly yet with a chuckle. "I'm not too keen on spending the night out here."

"It's not as bad as you may think, spending the night here. Believe me, I've done it." Seeing the curious look she's giving me over my shoulder, I laugh. "But, you don't need to worry; I know this place like the back of my hand. I haven't gotten lost in here since I was twelve."

"Were you ever scared when you got lost?" she asks then, coming up to walk beside me rather than linger behind.

"Probably the first time," I reply honestly. "But I was probably like six at the time."

"By yourself?"

"Nah, Kristoff was there, but he was only ten. Still, I don't really remember freaking out. We just kept our heads and found a way out. We ended up in a different part of the subdivision than we lived in, but we just went to someone's door to call my parents. It all worked out in the end."

"I just…" Elsa mutters, shaking her head slightly. I see her look around. "This is all so different to me. I mean, I've been outside New York City for vacations and stuff, but never to someplace so…_dense_. The foliage, everything's just so new to me."

I grin and clench her hand again. "Then I'm glad I showed you something new by dragging you out here."

"Speaking of 'dragging me out here,'" she mirrors my grin, "we've reached the top of the hill. Where now?"

Dropping her hand, I move to stand behind her, smiling the entire time at her confused expression.

"Take ten steps forward," I tell her.

She stares at me a second longer before turning and complying. I watch her take her ten tentative steps forward. I hear her gasp and see her lean forward ever so slightly.

"Wow."

Chuckling, I walk up to her side. "Right?"

Before us is a large drop off to the subdivision and beyond below us. The sun's setting in front of us, stars are beginning to come out, and lights are turning on in the houses below us. It truly is a spectacular sight. Especially for a city girl, I add with another laugh.

"Where's your house?" Elsa asks, her eyes furiously scanning the structures below us.

"It's over to the left. See the one with the big yard on the edge? The smoke coming from the black roof? That's me."

Elsa spots it and her eyes light up in childlike mirth. "I see it!"

"And that," I point out to a large building sitting on the outskirts of the neighborhood, of which the sun will soon disappear behind, "is my old elementary school. Nothing but open fields beyond that for miles."

"This is amazing, Anna," she whispers. "Everything's so…open. Even the subdivision doesn't seem crowded or pushed together; it's still natural. So different from New York."

"That's Kentucky for you," I sigh. "Even Downtown Louisville is pretty open compared to New York. You'd probably laugh and be like 'this is a _city_?'"

Elsa spends another few minutes taking in the scene before her before she spins back around to face me.

"So, what did you want to tell me?"

Red immediately colors my face, and I thank my lucky stars the dusk quickly settling in is helping to not make it as obvious.

"Right," I whimper. "Uh, why don't we sit down?"

I drop the backpack from my shoulder and pull out a large quilt, quickly spreading it on the rocky ledge we stand on. I sit down and let my legs dangle off the edge, how I always like to sit when I come here. Elsa sits next to me and crosses her legs, leaning in to show she's really interested in what I have to say.

I just hope she'll still be once I'm finished.

"So, I…wanted to bring you here because this place is really special to me," I begin, finding it easier to look at the ground between us than in her expectant blue orbs. "It's off the main paths, as I'm sure you noticed, pushing all those branches aside and the tall grass and all that. Anyway, um," I clear my throat, "it's special to me and _you're _special to me, so I…wanted to, you know, share it with you."

Chancing a look up, I see Elsa smiling softly at me. Scooting closer, she lays her hand on top of mine.

"You're special to me, too, Anna," she whispers.

"But that's not all," I quickly say, pulling my hand away and looking back out over the cliff. "I… Damn it, I-I really like you, Elsa, and I wanted to tell you in such a way that you'd truly understand, but now I'm thinking it might be coming off as cheesy or clichéd and I don't really want that, 'cause then you'll know how many chick flicks I watch and that's gonna seem lame, but…"

I manage to stop my rant before it really gets out of hand. Closing my eyes, I sigh heavily. Fuck, this is harder than I thought it'd be.

Elsa's laughing softly beside me. "Anna, you don't-."

"No, please," I tell her, turning to look at her, now sitting cross-legged before her. "I need to say this. Ever since I met you, Elsa, you just…pulled me in or something. That first night I found you in the boxing room, you wouldn't leave my mind after, and you barely said ten words to me. I wanted to approach you without scaring you off 'cause I knew you were hiding something, and then we went to that little diner for breakfast and you offered to train me, and then you told me about your arm and…things just…_evolved_, I guess. My feelings evolved."

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to look back at her. She gives me another smile, and I can see her eyes shining with tears. My heart leaps to my throat at all the implications those shimmering eyes could mean.

"I… I-I've fallen in love with you, Elsa," I admit in a whisper. "I've fallen so hard, and I just needed you to know. I'm not leaving your side because I promised I wouldn't; I'm not leaving your side because I don't _want_ to. I love you, Elsa; so much."

"Anna…"

"A-And I know it's bad to eavesdrop, but I did overhear you that day in the cemetery when you told your parents you think you're in love with someone. A _'her'_ someone, and I really, _really_ hope it's me. That's why I asked you out; to prove to you that if it wasn't me you were falling for, it should be. 'Cause, damn it, Elsa, I just love you so much, and I promise to never leave you. I mean, we've seen each other at our worst and came back from it, we can handle anything else life throws at us, right? 'Cause I don't think I could just let you up and leave me without a fight, and I know I'm starting to ramble, but you're just so beautiful and amazing, and people like that make me do this and-."

"Anna!"

Laughter like wind chimes flutters to my ears and I clamp my mouth shut. I'm back to looking at the ground now, and absolutely refuse to look back up. I had been doing an okay job, before that train wreck of a ramble at the end.

The soft hand beneath my chin, however, says otherwise and suddenly I'm looking back up at the angel in front of me. Tears have now spilled over and have trailed down Elsa's face, but her eyes are big and wide and full of utter elation.

Wait… Elation?

"It _was_ you I was talking about to my parents," she tells me softly. "It's always _been_ you, Anna. Ever since you approached me that second time in the locker room, it was you. Even after I had been a complete bitch to you the night before, you still tried to be friends. Even after I continued holding my walls up out of fear, you still fought to bring them down. Even after our fight and me throwing you out of my apartment—threatening to _hurt_ you—you returned and apologized even though you weren't solely in the wrong. You've always been there, Anna, even when I didn't know I needed you. It's because of you I'm turning my life around, truly. Had we never met…I think I'd still be hiding in my past. Wasting away, as you once put it. But you've made me see the light; you're helping me right the wrongs; you've showed me to let it go."

Expelling a watery laugh, tears of my own race down my cheeks. Elsa leans forward and touches our foreheads together, her hand coming to rest upon my cheek.

"You're amazing, Anna," she tells me, "and I love you, too."

Pulling away, I look at her briefly before glancing back down at the ground, an intense blush on my face.

"Can I…? Can I kiss you?" I ask.

Elsa giggles once more. "I'd kind of be insulted if you didn't."

That being the only invitation I need, I lean forward and kiss her lips gently. Immediately, my heart surges and begins to beat overtime as a shiver wracks my body. I feel like I'm being electrocuted, but fuck if it isn't the best feeling ever.

I'm kissing Elsa. _Finally _kissing Elsa.

She loves me. She said it, and I know I'm not dreaming this time.

And now she's kissing me back.

Before I let myself get carried away in bliss—or lose myself and just tackle her to the ground in a surge of passion—I pull away with a dreamy sigh. Elsa's as red as me as she takes my hand again, inching even closer until she's basically in my lap. I accept her advance and wrap her up, spreading my legs and settling her between them.

"I think I'm in heaven," she breathes.

Laughing, I hug her hard, my nose nuzzling her neck until she's laughing as well.

"Me too," I whisper.

The sun sets in front of us and we stay to watch, the perfect end to a perfect night. Once dark, I regrettably make to stand, pulling Elsa up as well as I pack up the blanket. Handing her a hoodie, as the temperature will surely begin to drop without the sun, I pull on the spare. We take the other's hand before I can't help myself and crash my lips back to hers in a much more passionate kiss. Testing the limits, I run my tongue along her bottom lip. Elsa shudders in my arms before her mouth is opening, her own tongue emerging to tangle with mine. I think we both let out matching moans as our hands begin to wander. Hers come to wrap around my neck, hand tangling in my hair, as mine settle on her hip, one bold one dipping lower to cup her ass.

Elsa lets out the fucking sexiest groan imaginable as I pull back again, taking time to take her lower lip between mine and suck gently.

"Anna…"

"Elsa."

"I love you," we say at the same time before breaking out into laughter.

We walk back hand in hand, and the journey takes longer than the one coming as we can't help stopping every now and then to kiss each other senseless. We keep to each other's lips the entire time, however, both of us not really sure when it's okay to advance further, yet neither really wanting to at this moment either. This is bliss, and I'm perfectly content.

When we return home and I'm in the kitchen cutting myself and Elsa a slice of pie, mom leans in and whispers, "Congratulations, honey."

I don't even blush and refute her, just smile broadly before exiting the kitchen to cuddle up next to Elsa on the couch and eat our pie. I couldn't be any happier with my life right now. I got the girl of my dreams resting against me, and my parents just accept that for what it's worth. There's no discussion on sexuality, not even what this means for the both of us, just acceptance. I mean, I told my parents long ago that I was gay, but still, they don't seemed unnerved by Elsa and me touching and kissing in front of them. Not that we're trying to flaunt it or anything, but damn, this girl is just too kissable!

Elsa doesn't even bother with the guest room that night, and crawls in right next to me.

"Thank you for tonight, Anna," she tells me. "For inviting me to dinner, for showing me the overlook, for telling me what you did, for everything."

"Anything for you, Els," I say back, giving her one final kiss on her forehead.

As she curls up against me, she whispers something that has me awake fighting back tears for the next hour.

"I'm so happy."


	22. Chapter 21: Fighting Stance

**I have such a long author's note this time, I'm putting the chapter in between it. This one will be short(er).**

**Thanks to Shadowglyder, I've been made aware that I may not have explained Elsa's loss of limb as best I can. For any of those confused, her right hand and forearm are gone. The stump is basically her elbow. The brace she wears now is Velcro and her elbow rests inside it. The brace is worn to keep it from moving—since it isn't attached to the rest of her arm. Hope that may clear things up!**

**Please read the longer AN at the bottom. Enjoy!**

**EDIT 5/21: _Thank you_ to SuperMegaFoxyAwesomeCobraa for pointing out that Rapunzel couldn't be fighting in a boxing tournament, since, you know...she's _dead_! Seriously, did no one else catch that? That was a major fail on my part...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One: Fighting Stance<strong>

I would like to point out that it was Elsa's fault I was almost late for the tournament that day, not mine. It wasn't my fault she wouldn't come out of the bathroom that morning.

"Elsa, come on, you promised!" I shout from the other side of the locked door.

"I'm sorry, Anna, but I…I-I just can't!"

Huffing, I rest my head against the cool wood of her bathroom door. Obviously enough, I had spent the night again at her place. Probably not the best idea given I should have been mentally preparing for the matches today and not cuddling and kissing my girlfriend the entirety of the night; but then again, I couldn't deny how happy I felt upon waking up this morning to Elsa's soft lips against my temple, her fingers dancing down my spine.

"You promised!" I can't help but repeat in a whine similar to a child—what? I am still only eighteen, that's barely adulthood.

"I know!" I hear her cry, and I can tell she's truly upset. "I want to go, I swear, I'm just… I'm weak."

"You're not weak, Elsa," I tell her, lowering my voice considerably to take on a soothing tone. Sighing again, I twist the doorknob. "Can I at least come in?"

"You're going to be late…" she mumbles.

"I'm thinking of not even going at all if it means leaving you here like this."

The door unlocks and opens and I'm met with Elsa's tear-stained face. Smiling, I wrap her in a hug. She latches on and begins softly sobbing.

"What's really going on, Elsa?" I ask. "You wouldn't be crying if you just didn't want to go."

"I'm scared, Anna," she whimpers. "I… They're going to surround me and bombard me with questions I don't think I can answer. Plus, this is your day, not mine. If I'm there, you won't get the recognition you deserve because it's all going to be on me."

I can't help but chuckle softly. "Elsa, all the fans are going to be in their seats, I doubt security will allow them to flood the ring when they see you. Okay, maybe the cameras will focus on you more than they should be, given they're supposed to be taping the fights, but I'm okay with that. No one's going to say anything to you either, Els, because they know tonight isn't the time and place." Looking at her, I raise her chin so she's staring at me. "Have you told Channel 4 you want to speak?"

Elsa nods. "I did," she mumbles.

"Then they've probably alerted the other stations as well and so the media knows they'll get their story soon enough," I explain. "This night isn't your night yet, Elsa."

"It's your night," she tells me with a small smile.

I grin. "Exactly. Trying to steal my limelight, huh?"

That elicits a chuckle from her and my spirits lift. I just might win this fight.

"Believe me, Anna, you deserve every second tonight."

"Then are you ready to go?"

She pauses and I watch her eyes cloud over briefly. A flash of fear ignites within her irises before they become hardened with determination. My grin widens.

"Yes," she affirms.

We end up being only ten minutes late.

XxXxX

As Elsa and I hurry from the subway station, we see Kristoff standing at the entrance of Madison Square Garden who approaches us as soon as he sees me.

"You're late!" he cries. "Damn it, Anna, you cannot be late for something like this!"

"I'm sorry, Kris," I tell him. "But we had…to have a talk before we could leave."

I see confusion set in before he looks to Elsa standing beside me, wearing one of her overly large hoodies, hood up and braid tucked within. Smiling slightly, she gives a meek wave.

"Hi, Kristoff," she mumbles.

"Elsa!" he shouts in a whisper. "You… You're here!"

"Yeah, yeah, and we're all really happy about that, believe me," I ramble as I pull them both inside, "but I need to check in before they say I can't compete!"

I luckily sign in with no hassle and I'm even able to bring Kristoff and Elsa back with me, stating one was my trainer, and the other my strategist—which, I suppose, wasn't really stretching the truth, since Kristoff _had_ trained me partly for the rookie tournament, as well as provided me with several decent strategies.

Immediately upon entering the locker room, Elsa shuffles even closer to me, keeping her head down as we find an empty space for me to put my things and change.

"They're not paying any attention to you, Els," I whisper as we meander our way through the crowd. "Not one single person has looked your way."

It was true, since everyone was either busy changing or warming up. Even then, I doubt they would recognize Elsa, what with her lengths to disguise herself. I literally had to talk her out of wearing sunglasses. That would actually draw more attention to her, really. I told her all she really had to do was cover her head—as a single, platinum blonde braid is her signature and could be recognized—and she was golden.

"Okay," I sigh when we find a vacant spot. "I'm going to go change real fast. If the lineup comes up meanwhile, take a look for me?"

I had addressed the both of them, but as I turn around to head to the stalls, I notice only Kristoff nods. I can't decide whether to laugh at Elsa's insecurity or take it seriously. I mean, yes, I understand her not wanting to be seen, but isn't she maybe being over the top?

Still, upon returning to them minutes later, I immediately take Elsa's hand in hopes to comfort as much as I can before the tournament starts.

"You good?" I ask, peeking down to see her beneath the hood.

She manages a small smile. "Yeah, I think so," she breathes. "You wanna…get warmed up on the bags?"

I beam back and nod. "Now that my trainer's with me this time, that'd be an excellent idea."

Half an hour later, the air horn from the rookie tournament blows, and I know it's all about to begin again.

Sure enough, the announcer comes blasting over the sound system once the audience quiets down.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen, boxing fans alike!"

Drowning him out to the best of my ability, I turn to look at the TV screens to see who I'm up against first. While scanning, I notice a familiar name and my stomach rolls uneasily.

_Jasmine Agrabah_.

Shit, she's here too? I _barely_ beat her in the rookie tournament! Closing my eyes momentarily I send a silent prayer that somebody will knock her out before I have to fight her.

"Oooh, you got Ariel Triton, Red," Kristoff says.

"Who? And where?"

I follow his finger to the last tier on the right. Sure enough, my name and picture are listed alongside a picture of a redhead and the name Ariel.

"You know her?" I ask him.

"She tried out for the Olympics last time," Elsa informs me. "Didn't make the cut by a hair. She's really good, but so are you." She smiles. "You can beat her, Anna."

"But she's like…junior varsity Olympics! I'm…not even that!" I cry. "And she's my first fight?"

Looks like the heavens weren't with me today.

Elsa chuckles and Kristoff just rolls his eyes. Stepping closer to me, Elsa places both hands on my shoulders.

"Listen to me," she says, "you _can_ do this, Anna. Yes, this entire night will be leagues different and harder than the rookie tournament, but you've _got_ this. I offered to train you because I saw myself in you. You're an excellent boxer, Anna, and regardless of how this night turns out, that won't change. Win or lose, it's good experience; but if you want to win, you have to believe in yourself. Kristoff and I do, do you?"

God damn, I think, that was better than any of my self-pep talks. Where's Elsa been all my life?

"I do," I reply in a firm voice. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one's looking, I give Elsa a quick peck on the lips. "Thank you, Elsa." I look to Kristoff over her shoulder and smile. "You too, bud."

Kristoff smiles and shrugs. "It's what we're here for," he says. "We know you tend to doubt yourself before these sorts of things; you've been doing it ever since your first fight. But, even when you've lost, Anna, you learned valuable things about yourself. You're not going to get anywhere without a few losses. I'm sure Elsa's lost her share of fights as well."

"Plenty," Elsa huffs with a roll of her eyes to which I giggle. "But Kristoff's right, they only better you. We want you to win, Anna, of course, but don't think we'll think any less of you if you don't."

"And no continuing to fight with a black eye, sprained ankle, and two freaking cracked ribs this time, alright?" Kristoff adds.

Chuckling, I shove him. "Yes, dad."

XxXxX

Ariel ended up being a pretty easy win. We were evenly matched in speed, and her stamina was better than mine, I'll give her credit, but she had the tendency to be indecisive. She'd throw a punch or set up for a combo of sorts, then change her mind halfway through and begin something completely different. That would throw her off and leave her open, and after a few times of this, I ended up using it to my advantage. I managed to sweep her all three rounds, leaving me with the most points by far.

The second round had now only just begun—Ariel's and my fight being the last of the first round—and I was still going last this time, so I was spending it strategizing with Elsa.

"So, what did you do wrong with Ariel?" she asks me once we find a secluded corner in the locker room.

"Ummm…" I pause to think. "I used too much of my speed early on?"

I mean, that was true as I had been tiring out by the end of the third round. Had there been a fourth, Ariel may have managed to pull out a win.

"Well, yeah, maybe a bit," Elsa agrees. "But I'm talking about how you left yourself open several times. When you jumped back from a combo or blow, your hands would lower to below your chest. What did I constantly drill into your head one of our first sessions of training?"

Rolling my eyes playfully, I supply with a grin, "Arms above chest; you got the rest."

Elsa smiled back. "Right."

It was a silly saying that Elsa said her first trainer told her and has kind of just stuck ever since. It was easy to remember, but in the heat of things, it always seems to slip my mind.

I'm about to open my mouth and ask for other pointers when I notice Ariel coming up behind Elsa.

"Anna, right?" she asks me, a big smile on her face despite the fact she just lost to me.

"Yeah…" I answer, glancing to Elsa briefly as she tenses once Ariel speaks. "W-What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you!" she chirps. "You're really good! Did you have a trainer helping you?"

"Uh…"

I look to Elsa who seems to be burrowing impossibly deeper into her hoodie to escape the presence behind her. That, of course, was the wrong move. Ariel apparently just notices the person right in front of her, and puts two and two together.

"Oh! Is this them?" she asks.

Shit, now what?

"Yeah, um… This is…Ezra!" I make up on the dot. "He's a friend of a friend, but he's really shy, so…don't mind him!" I throw in an awkward laugh for good measure.

Ariel seems to buy it, however, and just beams. "Well, anyway, I'll be rooting for you the rest of the tournament, Anna." She turns to walk away before calling, "And bye, Ezra! Good job training Anna!"

When she's out of sight—and earshot—Elsa and I let out a collective breath.

"That was too close," Elsa mumbles.

"She believed me though," I mention.

Still, Elsa brings her hands to her face and rubs at her eyes while groaning. "_Why_ can't I just reveal myself?" she drones. "Why can't it just be after the conference or whatever and it will all be over and done with?"

Smiling sympathetically, I lean forward and place a hand on her knee.

"Thursday night, Elsa," I tell her. "Just hold out 'til Thursday."

"But it's only _Monday_," she grinds out so much like a child that I have to laugh.

"And tomorrow will be Tuesday, then Wednesday, and then bam! Thursday!" Switching seats so I'm now seated next to her rather than across from her, I pull her back to my side. "Just…don't think about it," I tell her. "I know that may seem impossible, but by the time the tournament is over tonight, it'll basically be Tuesday, and then tomorrow we'll spend out somewhere doing something to keep your from thinking about it, and then Wednesday maybe you can come to work with me and read to all the kids again, 'cause they'll love that and I promised them, and then it's Thursday and we can have another ice cream and Netflix binge until you go on TV later that night!"

Elsa chuckles softly. "Sounds like you've thought this through," she mutters.

I laugh. "Pft, yeah right; I thought all that up on the spot! Just like Ezra!"

Elsa pulls away then, but is smiling now, so I hope that her spirits have lifted ever so slightly.

"Well regardless of how serious you were about all of that," she says, "I may just have to hold you to it; it does seem like the perfect distraction until then."

I beam. "Done."

"But for now…we need to get back to boxing."

I laugh and rub the back of my neck. "Yeah, we're kind of in the middle of a tournament, huh?"

Elsa grins. "Pretty big one, too, if I recall."

"Back to strategy?"

"Back to strategy."

XxXxX

"Come on, Anna, you _got _this!" I hear Kristoff yelling, and I'm instantly hit with a wave of déjà vu.

I'm circling my fourth opponent of the night, and it's starting to take its toll on me. While the rookie tournament consisted of eight competitors for both males and females, tonight's tourney consists of sixteen each. I've managed to make it to the semi-final round, meaning if I win this fight, I'll be in the final match for girls.

But I'm definitely feeling my injuries more tonight than ever before. Not to mention this Asian chick I'm fighting now seems to be a freaking robot and will not freaking _stop_…

That said, I'm not about to throw in the towel. Fuck what Kristoff said about continuing through injury; Anna Summers does not give up. I'll fight. I might pass out with the next punch to my head, but I'll fight.

"Your arms, Anna, _your arms_!"

That must be Elsa. I instantly raise my fists back above my chest, and manage to block a hit. I'd been watching the girl before me in her previous fights and I knew she was good when she KO'ed Jasmine two of three rounds. Now, I almost wish I was fighting Jasmine again as the cards were definitely stacked against me with this girl.

_Mulan_, I vaguely remember being her name through the haze of exhaustion and pounding of my head.

I dodge another punch and shake my head to clear it. Sparing a glance at my corner, I spot Kristoff and Elsa standing outside the ring, Kristoff gripping the ropes like a lifeline and Elsa with hardened, narrow eyes, surely analyzing my and Mulan's every move.

I see them standing there—_both_ standing there—and I can't help but smile. Last time I was in this situation, the Elsa I saw was a figment of my imagination. This time, she's real. While my fatigue may be playing different tricks on me this time around, I know without a doubt Elsa is really there.

And that spurs me on more than anything.

Until a hook to my head has me crumpling to the ground.

Yeah, a boxing match probably isn't the best time to space out, Anna…

"Anna!" I hear Elsa cry.

Mulan continues to circle me like a hawk and I'm aware of the ref counting down until he can call an end to the match. I've _got_ to get up! Attempting to stand, I sway greatly but steady myself just in time to slide away from another oncoming punch. Have I mentioned how much I hate this girl? Seriously, how is she not slowing down _at all_ despite this being our second round?

That thought costs me as Mulan basically charges at me, fist stretched outward and socking me in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of me, I hit the floor of the ring again and resign myself to losing this round. There's no way I can regain my breath in ten seconds.

The ref blows his whistle, a bell dings, and the crowd erupts into applause. Mulan walks back to her corner without paying my heap of a body any attention, though I can hardly blame her; I probably look like roadkill.

"Anna, hey," Kristoff's whispering as he pulls me up. We walk back slowly to my corner, me with a slight limp, and I'm immediately pulled into a hug by Elsa.

"Are you okay?" she asks. "That blow to your head was brutal."

"I'm fine," I manage to rasp out. Seeing the look Kristoff's staring me down with, I add with what little bite I can muster, "Seriously."

I see Elsa and Kristoff exchange unsure glances with the other before I'm handed a bottle of water by Elsa. I'm half tempted to down the entire thing in one gulp, but I know that would only hurt me further come the start of the final round. To compensate, I pour half the bottle on my head, flipping my now-wet braids over my shoulders.

"So, I'm down two rounds," I start, "is there anything I can do to somehow surpass her in points?"

"I don't think so," Elsa tells me. "Even if you knock her out this time, Anna, it may be too little too late."

"Damn," I mumble. Rolling my neck, I hear it crack and my body is given slight relief. "Still," I determinedly state, "I'm not going down without a fight."

"What's the damage though?" Kristoff asks me.

"I'm _fine_, Kristoff."

Anger and a fierce look of protection flashes in his eyes. "So help me, Anna, _tell me_ or I swear to God I throw in the fucking towel this second."

We hold each other's glare for a moment before I deflate with a sigh, too drained physically to try and win a mental battle.

"The same ankle as last time is hurting, and I probably have a concussion," I resign. "But, aside from that, _nothing_, okay? I swear it."

"They're getting ready to start again," Elsa tells me, looking at the ref and Mulan over my shoulder. Her right hand pulls me to her by the back of my neck and our foreheads touch. Her right hand comes to rest on my cheek, the hollow feeling reassuring somehow. "Do your best," she says. "Regardless of what happens, you had a hell of a night, and I'm proud of you."

I smile as she releases me. "Thanks, Els."

"Go get her, Red," Kristoff says as I spin back to face center ring.

Mulan and I approach each other one last time, the ref standing between us. He raises his hand straight in the air and we raise our fists. As his arm swings down, another bell chimes. I immediately take several steps backwards as Mulan lunges at me. It might seem like a fool's errand, trying to stay away from her, but evading Jasmine managed to wear her down enough for me to win last time, so maybe it will work here. I have my doubts, but I'm out of other feasible options.

I don't spend the entire time playing keep away from her fists, I do make advances of my own, and even land several hits, but I know still I'm still trying my best to kill time and keep her moving. I spare a glance to Elsa and see her nod, approving of my approach before I focus back on Mulan.

I swear, this girl is expressionless. The entire tourney her face hasn't changed from its determined glint, perfectly mirroring her trainer, a tall, built Asian man who looks like he could lead an army to war. Even as I land a hard—and quite impressive, if I can say so—combo to her side and head, her expression doesn't waver. I mean, _come_ _on_!

That, more than anything else, makes me frustrated to no end and I become a bit reckless. Still, my stamina holds out as I dish out every combo Elsa and I ever honed in the gym, and I even throw in a few I had made up on my own and hadn't shown her yet. Some land, some miss, and some are retaliated with combos of Mulan's own device. We're more evenly matched this round, and I don't know if it's because she's finally getting tired, or she knows she's won and is going easy on me.

Regardless, she seems to get fed up with it all at one point, and another swift punch to the chest—_right_ above my heart, fuck it all—has me back to the ground. Huffing, I admit defeat, my legs crying out in pain, and my brain trying to glue itself back to the base of my skull.

This time, an air horn sounds and Mulan's arm is hoisted into the air to determine her the winner. The arena goes crazy as I sit up and begin to massage my head as best as I can with my gloves on. I have my eyes closed, but I notice a shadow block the lights of the ring, and I open them to see Mulan herself standing in front of me.

Then, cracking the first smile—if I can even really call it that, with how small it is—of the night, she stretches out a hand to me that doesn't have any intention to harm me. Our gloves meet and she pulls me up, even placing her other on my shoulder to keep me still.

"Good fight," she tells me. "To be honest, I was looking forward to fighting you the most out of everyone here."

"Really?" I asked, my eyebrows probably disappearing into my hairline.

That actually elicits a chuckle from her. "Really," she answers. "You're really good, and proved quite the challenge."

"Thanks," I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck again. "Kinda didn't seem like it from my eyes, but I'm glad you think so."

Her smile just grows as she leans in closer. Glancing to my corner, she adds, "Plus, it's not every day you get to fight a boxer trained by Elsa Arendelle herself."

My heart stops.

"H-How did you…?"

Mulan pulls back and shrugs, her smile now smug. "I'm observant. Plus, I like to know extensively who I'm up against, even if that means…dropping an ear to their conversations in the locker room."

"You…" I try to look mad, but I'm sure I come off looking ready to explode from fear instead. Mulan notices and her smug look dissipates, an honest, kind smile being left behind.

"Look, I'm sorry," she says. "I know this is a big deal to Elsa, and I respect her not only as a boxer, but as a person, so, like the rest of us, I'll wait until Thursday to hear the entire story. From her."

I open my mouth, but Mulan cuts me off with a grin. "And no, I won't tell anyone," she laughs.

Sighing, I smile back. "Thank you, Mulan."

Nodding, she regains her stoic look before holding out her hand once more. "It was a pleasure fighting you, Anna."

"You too," I say as I shake her hand. "Good luck."

She nods before turning to walk back her to her corner, the large Asian man merely nodding at her before they walk away.

"What was that about?" Kristoff asks as he comes up behind me, Elsa in tow.

"Just…congratulating me on a good fight," I reply. "Apparently she really wanted to fight me. Luckily, I didn't disappoint."

As the three of us walk back to the locker room, I feel Elsa take my hand.

"You did great, Anna," she tells me, bumping my shoulder with hers. "Coming in third in your first legitimate tournament not geared towards rookies? That's a big deal!"

"What did you come in your first time?" I ask, honestly curious. "I promise I won't get dejected or anything if you, like, won the whole thing."

Grinning, she answers, "Third."

"Really?" I ask. "You're not just saying that?"

"Nope," she says back. "I really did come in third. How's that for coincidence?"

Matching her grin, I say, "That's good then; looks like I'm right on track to competing in the Olympics!"

No prize goes out to third, just first, so Elsa, Kristoff and I retire to a lobby area in the Garden to watch the final match after I change back into street clothes. Kristoff runs to the bar to grab us a couple drinks when Elsa snuggles against me.

"So, you're not too upset about third, right?" she asks.

"Surprisingly? No." I sigh as I adjust the hood on her head. "I mean, yeah, it sucks, but if this were the Olympics, I'd be coming home with a bronze, so…"

"Always look on the bright side, huh?"

I grin. "It's one of my few good habits." I pause, and then cock my head as I continue, "Of course, the Olympics would have even better boxers than this did, so I probably wouldn't have _really _come in third—especially it being my first time—so…"

"Anna," Elsa cuts me off with a chuckle. "Rambling."

Blushing, I squeak out a sorry, before I literally bury myself in her neck, her soft hoodie covering my mouth to keep me from saying anything else. I really am happy with my results, so I will not allow my mouth to bring me down, no matter how much it wishes to go on.

"Beer, anyone?" Kristoff offers as he returns with three bottles in his hands.

We sit together on a couch and watch the final round. Mulan's up against this brunette named Meg and they were basically made for each other. Each counters the other's moves, barely any hits are landed, let alone points scored, and the first round drags on and on and is looking to be a stalemate. Then suddenly, Meg seems to flip a switch somewhere and she has Mulan knocked out the next second from a powerful jab. I'm floored.

"Damn," I whisper. "She got Mulan."

"Glad you're not fighting her, aren't you, Red?" Kristoff asks me with a sly smile.

I don't even bother trying to refute him, because I truly am. The hit would probably have killed me.

"How's your head?" Elsa's asking next, once Mulan comes to and is led back to her corner.

I rub the left side where most of the pain seems to be lingering before answering. "Better. The medic looked at it before I left the locker room and said it's not too serious. I'll probably end up sleeping most of tomorrow, but I'm good."

Kissing my left temple, Elsa blushes. "That help any?"

"My God, Elsa, you're a drug," I respond, moving so I can kiss her on the lips.

Elsa laughs in the kiss before Kristoff's clearing his throat loudly next to us.

"Not that I'm not happy for you both, but…seriously? In the middle of the arena?"

I roll my eyes. "There are barely any people around, Kris," I say. "I doubt that counts as PDA."

"Still in public," Kristoff says with a grin.

I stick my tongue out at him in jest before returning my attention to the TV for the second round, resting my head on Elsa's shoulder.

The bell to start the fight hasn't even rung by the time I'm fast asleep.

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><p><strong>Okay, so I just felt the need to really try and express my gratitude to each and every one of you, especially those of you that review. Recently a lot of crap has been going on in the Elsanna fandom regarding writers getting flamed for their stories being too "angsty," "annoying," or "having too much implied," etc. I don't honestly know the half of it, but I do know that it has caused at least one writer to leave the fandom with little say on whether heshe will be returning, and many others to put their stories on hiatus.**

**To this I say two things. One, there is a difference between constructive criticism and just being downright rude. I use Shadowglyder as another example, when he/she messaged me questioning Elsa's arm, the message was kind and helpful. He/She truly wanted to help me and this is why it was pointed out. Had they said "Gosh you're such a bad writer! You keep going back and forth between saying 'Elsa's hand' and 'Elsa's arm.' Make up your mind!" I probably would have simply ignored it. This is not helpful, and this isn't even the worse of what is apparently going around.**

**So, two, **_**thank you **_**to all of you out there for never have given me reason to hate this fandom. I am beginning to think myself blessed for not having experienced any of this drama—and I knock on wood to keep it that way. Like I've said before, this is my most popular story and also my baby. If you notice something out of place—plot holes, continuity, questions in general—you **_**can**_** ask. Just make sure it's helpful. But, thanks again, my beloved admirers. **

**Lastly, for any of you who also follow me on Tumblr (x-sodenozangetsu-x), you know I am planning a Werewolf!Anna AU. This is still a thing, and it even has a title now: Still of the Night. Hopefully, the first chapter will be out tomorrow, so keep an eye out for it! It'll most likely end up being rated T (no smut, sorry) and will be under 10 chapters (more like 4 or 5). I plan to update it simultaneously with Sucker Punch. Inspiration will determine which story is updated, but I'll try to keep both on a semi-regular schedule. That being said, I start my first full-time job next week, so, keep being awesome and understand that. **

**Thank you. :)**


	23. Chapter 22: Baby Steps

**I am **_**so**_** sorry it's been over two weeks since I've updated… Life's gotten pretty real since graduating college and it's taken a toll on me. **

**For anyone who doesn't follow me on Tumblr (x-sodenozangetsu-x) OR read Still of the Night, I started a new job in an office a little over a week ago. Apparently, that job was not suited for me and had me suffering three panic attacks in the span of two days. Needless to say, for health and happiness reasons, I quit and went back to my old job. While I got a raise, I am now full time instead of part time, which means less free time. Also, I've been slowly recuperating from my panic attacks and really have just gotten back into writing.**

**That said, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, mainly because it's a lot shorter than I wanted it as I had planned to have this chapter be Elsa's big reveal. BUT, I didn't want you all to have to wait any longer 'cause I'm just nice like that. ;) Next chapter will have Elsa's LEGIT big reveal, so I suppose enjoy the cuteness while it lasts 'cause there's a lot more angst coming!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two: Baby Steps<strong>

My phone vibrating on my nightstand wakes me around three Wednesday morning. Rolling over groggily, my hand reaches blindly for it before pulling it under the covers with the rest of me. Seeing Elsa's name on the screen though, I sit up at attention as I answer.

"Elsa? Are you okay?"

"I had another nightmare, Anna," is her whispered reply, her voice choked with sobs. "Then when I woke up and you weren't there…I-I panicked."

"Do you want me to come over?" I immediately ask. "I don't mind, really."

"No!" she cries, although I can hear the lingering doubt in her voice as she says so. "I just…wanted to hear your voice."

I smile on my end. "We can FaceTime, if you want," I tell her. "That way, you'll technically be able to see me. It'll almost be like I'm right there next to you!"

Elsa laughs softly as she utters, "O-Okay."

"Great! One sec!"

Pulling my phone back, I tap the button for FaceTime and am greeted with darkness and a little picture of me up in the right-hand corner. Settling back into bed, I prop my phone against the pillow next to me.

"Ready," I say.

There's shuffling on the other end for a moment before a light turns on, and soon I can see Elsa's face smiling shyly at me, the soft lighting showing the redness in her eyes and the still-wet tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Oh, Elsa…"

"Thanks for this, Anna," she says as she too lays back in her own bed.

"You know I'd do anything for you, Els," I tell her with conviction. "Even take a subway to your place at three in the morning."

Elsa chuckles. "Is it that late?" I see her roll over to assumedly check her bedside clock. "I'm sorry, Anna, you must've been sound asleep."

"Elsa," I shush her, "it's okay, really. Do you want to talk about the dream?"

She shrugs and looks down at the sheets. "It wasn't much different than the ones before. I'm in the car, it's upside-down, dad's still and bleeding from his head, and mom's screaming in the passenger seat."

I shudder involuntarily. "I'm so sorry, Elsa. I wish I could give you a hug or a kiss right now."

She smiles meekly as she looks at the camera. "You're really helping more than you think you are right now. I… I never really thought of doing this when I have dreams and you're not with me."

"Well, now we're prepared for the future!" I exclaim with a grin. Elsa matches it briefly before she's frowning again. When I hear her sniff, I scoot closer to my phone, and, by extension, closer to Elsa. "What is it?"

"I…" She hiccups and rubs her eye. "Every time I try to go back to sleep, all I see are flames and mom's screams haunt me. That, or I just relive it over and over again."

"How long have you been up?"

Elsa looks away and bites her lip. "You'll be upset…"

"Because it's been a long time?" I guess. "Elsa, I won't be mad at you if you waited three hours before calling me or three seconds."

Letting my words sink in momentarily, she ends up mumbling, "I've been awake since one-thirty." She stares up at me with sad eyes. "I wanted to try and handle it myself s-since Milo wants me to start…not relying on you as much."

"Screw what Milo said," I snap. "If it's hurting you or bothering you this much, you call me; no matter what time and no matter where I may be. You'll move on from me when you're ready and not a moment sooner, okay?"

Elsa blushes as she whispers, "I never want to move on from you, Anna."

I giggle and blush myself. "You know what I mean, silly."

"You're not mad though?" she asks next. "That I didn't call you immediately?"

I shake my head. "Not at all, Elsa. It means, even if you aren't aware of it, you're learning—and, more importantly, _wanting_—to deal with things yourself. I think Milo would be proud, honestly."

Elsa's blush intensifies at the praise. "Thanks."

We continue FaceTiming for almost two more hours before I notice Elsa fighting to keep her eyes open. Smiling gently, I reach out to touch my phone screen as if to caress Elsa's cheek itself.

"Think you can sleep now?" I ask.

Elsa hums in response, but opens one eye after a moment, looking vulnerable once more as she looks to me.

"Will you…stay on the line with me?" she asks. "Just for a while?"

My smile grows. "Of course I will, Elsa. I won't hang up until you fall back asleep, alright?"

"And can you…talk?" she asks next, her blush only increasing with each word. "Since I…can't h-hold you?"

I can't hold back a laugh at the question, but it's anything except mocking.

"I love talking almost as much as I love you, you know that." I grin as she looks away in embarrassment. "But yes, I'll talk to you. A dozen bedtime stories coming right up!"

I'm on my fifth story of Kristoff and I getting in trouble in middle school—those were my most rebellious years—when I notice Elsa's heavy breathing and a small, serene smile on her lips indicating she's back in a deep slumber. Grinning once more, I roll onto my back and bask in the calming rhythm of her breaths before I too am lulled off to sleep. My phone only hangs up when it dies hours later.

XxXxX

"Where are we going, Annie?" Olaf asks me as we descend into the subway station hours later. "The subway we usually take isn't at this station."

"We're making a detour before work, buddy," I explain. "We have one stop to make first; then we'll get to the library."

"Where are we going?" he asks again.

I beam down at him and wink. "It's a surprise!" He giggles at my enthusiasm. "You'll like it though, don't worry."

"Is it super hero training?!"

I roll my eyes as we board the train. "That would be awesome, but unfortunately no. Our time has yet to come."

As we take a seat, I pull Olaf into my lap. Every now and then, his parents will ask me to take him to and/or from daycare if they are unavailable. Today just happened to be one of those days. I don't mind it in the least, but I just had one thing I had to take care of first.

"Wow!" Olaf gasps as we walk up to a tall building once off the subway. "That's the biggest building I ever sawed!"

"'I've ever seen,' Olaf," I correct him amicably. "But yes, it's a tall building."

"What is it?" he asks before gasping again and jumping up and down. "Did daycare move here?!"

I laugh. "No, I don't think the people who live in this building would appreciate dozens of little kids taking over their homes. Although, one probably wouldn't mind."

"People _live_ here?!" He strains so hard to see the top of the building that he almost falls backward. "Even on the toppest floor?"

"You bet!"

"Can _we_ live up there?"

I'm not sure if the 'we' he's referring to is him and his parents, or him and me, but either way, I chuckle once more.

"Sorry, buddy; these places are too expensive for most people's taste."

"Then why are we here?" he questions as we finally enter, paying rapt attention to his reflection on the marble floor.

"Remember Elsa?" I ask.

A grin immediately splits his face. "Yeah!" He hops as he waits for an elevator. "She's coming to work with us?"

"If we can convince her," I reply. "It's a surprise. She doesn't know I'm coming; or, she probably forgot."

"Cool!" Olaf shouts. "I hope she will!"

"Let's go see then, huh?"

Olaf nods eagerly and basically drags me into the elevator before its doors are even fully open. After asking which floor, I let him push the button and he squeals in joy the entire time we rise. Apparently he's only ridden a few elevators before. Upon stepping out and asking what number she lives in, I tell him and he bounds off down the hallway.

"Olaf!" I call out, loud enough for him to hear me but not to be heard by the floor's occupants. "Don't knock until I get there!"

He obeys and waits patiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet. As soon as I get there, he begs me to knock.

"Hide behind me and then pop out after she answers, okay?" I tell him with a big smile. "That will really surprise her."

Olaf giggles and nods before he moves to stand behind me, out of Elsa's immediate sight. Raising a fist to knock, I shush Olaf's continued laughter and bring my fist down.

_Tap tap ta-tap tap!_

Elsa opens the door a moment later and stares at me quizzically.

"Anna? What are you doing here?"

I nudge Olaf with my foot and he springs out from behind me with a cry of "surprise!" Elsa stumbles backward a few steps from the outburst before she's smiling and laughing with us.

"Olaf!" she greets. "What are you doing here?"

"Annie takes me to the library with her sometimes and we came to get you first!" he explains.

Elsa looks back at me. "You're bringing me to work?"

Looking down at Olaf, I roll my eyes. "See, I told you she'd forget." He laughs before I look back to Elsa and say, "It's Wednesday, remember? I told you at the tournament that you could come to work with me to distract yourself. Plus, they really miss you."

"Yeah, Miss Elsa, we do!" Olaf adds for good measure. "Please come read to us?"

She smiles and squats to Olaf's level. "I'd love to come with you all."

Olaf cries out in joy and grabs Elsa in a hug. I ruffle his hair as he pulls back and tell him to go call the elevator for us. He immediately takes off back down the hall, now humming happily.

"I had totally forgotten you mentioned this Monday night," she tells me abashedly, ducking back inside her apartment for a minute to grab her keys and a jacket.

"I figured you would," I start with a grin before she smacks me playfully, "but I thought if I had Olaf with me, you wouldn't be able to say no."

"Oh fine, make me the bad guy," Elsa giggles.

"What can I say?" I shrug. "I know how to get what I want."

Taking my hand, she kisses my cheek before we follow after Olaf.

"That, you do," she purrs while nuzzling my neck.

"Annie!" Olaf giggles once we approach. "You're all red!"

Even more heat rushes to my face as Elsa laughs too and I shoot her a weak glare to which she mirrors my earlier action and shrugs, smiling smugly. At least she refrains from kissing me again in front of a kid. I don't think I could handle that. Olaf would get to the library and tell everyone in sight, even the strangers there for their own business.

And no, I'm actually not exaggerating this time.

XxXxX

When we arrive, Olaf is immediately sprinting from us towards the playground where the kids are for recess-despite it being the end of Novemeber-and I can only thank the heavens that the playground is outside. Seriously, the next block over could hear him.

"Guys! Miss Elsa's back! Miss Elsa's back!"

Eight kids look to Olaf before looking behind him and spotting Elsa and me. They each break out into adorable smiles before basically charging at Elsa. Two kids remain on the playground who have yet to meet Elsa, watching curiously as the others dart off. Eventually, their curiosity wins over and they follow too.

"I didn't know I was missed this much!" Elsa exclaims with a laugh as basically every kid fights to hug her.

"Honestly, neither did I," I respond with my own chuckle. "I'm kind of jealous, actually. I never get hugs like that."

"That's 'cause we see _you_ all the time!" Ellie exclaims. Quickly, she dashes over and gives me a squeeze as well. "But we like you too, don't worry."

"Good to know," I retort with a roll of my eyes.

"Besides," Marshall pipes up, "you're on TV! I saw you fighting again!"

Grinning, I squat. "I did pretty darn well, didn't I?"

He nods excitedly. "Third place! That's so cool, Anna!"

"She wouldn't have done that well without me," Elsa adds in with an almost cocky tone. "I trained her."

Immediately, all the kids, even the ones who don't know Elsa, gasp and look to her once more.

"You did?!"

"Really?"

"You fight too?!"

While all the other kids fire question after question at her, unable to contain their adorable excitement, Olaf quietly raises his hand, though his eyes are wide.

"Yes, Olaf," I call on him, smiling because he always raises his hand, even when it's not really necessary.

"How come you weren't on TV with Anna?" he asks.

It's an innocent question from perhaps the most innocent child in the world, yet it's loaded to a capacity of which only Elsa and I can comprehend. My amusement quickly dies and I glance to Elsa to see how she reacts. Surprisingly, her smile remains intact.

"Well, I haven't fought for a while," she answers. "The last time I would have been on TV, you all were probably still too young."

"Why don't you fight anymore?" Marshall asks next.

"O-Okay, guys, that's enough questions!" I cut in. "Let's all go inside and get ready to read, huh?"

I'm met with a cacophony of moans and whines and the most pitiful puppy-dog eyes you'd ever see.

"Come on, Anna!"

"We're curious!"

"Please Annie?"

"Guys, it really not polite to ask tha-."

"It's alright, Anna."

Blinking in surprise, I look to Elsa who's standing next to me, hand on my shoulder, and a determined glint in her eyes.

"I'd like to tell them," she says with conviction.

"But Elsa…"

She grins a bit sheepishly and shrugs as she says, "They're a bunch of kids. I can do this. Besides," a flash of fear shines in her blue orbs, "it's good practice for tomorrow, right?"

I have a feeling I'm going to lose this fight regardless of what I come up with. With a sigh, I nod my head as if to grant her access to tell her tale. "I guess you have a good point." I fix her with a glare though and state, "But _only_ if you really want to and _not_ just because they're asking, get it?"

Elsa just further surprises me by chuckling. "I get it, Anna," she replies. "I want to."

"It's something serious, isn't it?" Olaf states rather than asks, and the other kids immediately lose their spark of excitement.

"Yes," Elsa answers, "but it's nothing you all don't deserve to know."

"Can we at least go inside?" I question. "So we're more comfortable? And warm?"

The kids—and Elsa—actually agree to that, and soon we're all seated in another semicircle around Elsa waiting for her to tell her story.

"First," Elsa begins, "how would you politely ask someone a question you knew might make them uncomfortable?" She looks around at the kids and shoots me a smile as she passes over Olaf and me. "Let's say you think your friend's pet died, but you're not sure. How would you ask?"

Stitch raises his hand and blushes when Elsa calls his name. "You should ask if it's okay for you to ask," he mumbles.

Elsa nods and then calls on a girl named Alice who asks to give an example question.

"I heard your pet died," she presents. "I'm sorry; is that true?"

I smile as she answers, knowing she's the oldest in the group—going on six—and is probably one of the only ones who can probably even begin to understand what's going on among a bunch of four year-olds.

Elsa's smile brightens. "Exactly. Now," she huffs lightly, "I asked that of you because I am going to be asked a question like this tomorrow night on live TV. Going off what…" she looks to me for Alice's name and I mouth it to her, "Alice said, how should the TV guy ask me why I quit boxing?"

Olaf eagerly raises his hand—so fast it almost hits me in the face, actually.

"Olaf?"

"Can I ask why you quit boxing, please?"

Knowing a TV personality isn't going to be nearly as polite as that, I can't hold back a giggle. Elsa chuckles a bit as well, but nods.

"Very good, Olaf," she commends. "And since you all asked so politely, I'll tell you…"

I'm not even lying when I say that all the kids scoot closer to Elsa, and I'm sure all their eyes are focused solely on her.

"About a year ago, I was in a car wreck," she explains. "I'm sure a lot of you know car wrecks aren't good, but some of them can be a lot worse than others. Unfortunately, I was in one of the worse ones. I got really hurt and fell asleep for a long time because of how hurt I was. I didn't wake up for two weeks, and when I did, I realized how hurt I really was."

I tighten my hold around Olaf subconsciously, wondering _how in the world_ Elsa is going to attempt to explain losing her arm to a bunch of kids.

Of course, to gauge how to tell them, she asks another question, and I realize how good with kids Elsa really is. Not only does she give off a motherly vibe, she also knows how to talk to them in ways they can understand. Something even I sometime struggle with after working with kids for months now.

"Does anyone know someone who doesn't have both of their arms or legs?" she asks.

A couple kids nod their heads. One boy, Abu, speaks up.

"My uncle lost his leg in the war," he says.

Elsa smiles sympathetically before addressing the group again. "Not everyone is lucky enough to live with all four limbs. Some people even live most of their lives like this. I'm telling you this because I am not one of those lucky people."

I'm also not exaggerating when I say a collective gasp fills the room at this.

"In the car wreck, I lost my right arm," Elsa reveals, rubbing her right arm absently.

"But you have a hand still!" Ellie pipes up.

"It's not real though, is it?" Abu asks. "Uncle has that for his leg. It's called a pros…_pro-se-tit_!"

Elsa laughs. "Pros_thetic_," she corrects. "But yes, that's what it is."

"Will you ever have a real arm again?" Stitch asks.

Elsa shrugs. "Maybe," she says. "It's hard, but you can do it. A lot of people, though, rely on robotics."

"You could have a robot arm?!" Olaf immediately cries, so loud several of the kids shush him and others laugh at his exuberance. "You could be a Transformer!"

"Olaf," I chide gently.

He immediately frowns, but Elsa's repeated laughter causes him to perk back up slightly.

"I _could_ have a robot arm," she says. "And if I get one, you'll be the first person to see it, okay, Olaf?"

The boy in my lap grins and his eyes light up like it's Christmas morning. Elsa probably has no idea she literally just made this kid's day. Or that she better uphold that promise.

When we leave the library that day, I take her hand—her _right_ hand—once we're on the subway, and trace its contours with my fingers.

"How are you feeling?" I ask as I remove my hand in place it in her left. She instantly latches on.

"Good," she responds in a whisper. "I mean, it wasn't broadcast on live television, and it was said so kids could understand, but… Yeah, I feel good."

I bump her forehead with mine. "It's still big, Elsa," I tell her. "A huge step. You've told my parents and a bunch of kids because _you wanted to_. You got a spot on live TV tomorrow night because _you wanted to_. A little later this time tomorrow, anyone who wants to know will because _you wanted them to_."

"Well, baby steps, right?" she asks me with a coy smile.

"Baby steps," I whisper back, kissing her lips.

"Will you spend the night tonight, please?" she asks, her eyes shimmering the way they always do so I can't turn her down.

"Definitely," I reply with a squeeze of her hand.

"And an ice cream and Netflix marathon tomorrow?"

I grin. "Wouldn't have it any other way."


	24. Chapter 23: Round Three

**Shit, guys, has it really been three weeks? I'm so sorry. My motivation has just lacking exponentially and then two days ago my laptop stopped working. Like literally…it won't even turn on. Nothing. Nadda. **

**That said, the end of this chapter was written at work with dogs barking the entire time and the phone ringing off the hook. Despite that, I think it turned out well enough, but will probably being going back and editing it once my laptop is back up and running.**

**Also, Sucker Punch's one year anniversary is coming up July 7****th****! I can't believe it's already been a year since this was published, but we've still got a lot to get through, so keep your heads! And don't go crazy from the lack of updates! ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Three: Round Three<strong>

The Netflix and ice cream marathon didn't seem to have the same effect it did before, unfortunately. The entire day, Elsa was unusually quiet—stoic, even—and she hardly reacted to anything we watched, be it comedy or horror. And yes, we really did watch a comedy and horror back-to-back. _Mean Girls _and _The Ring_ will never be the same to me, honestly; yet, Elsa just sat there, eyes fixated absently on the screen, eating bowl after bowl of ice cream like a robot. When I tried to stimulate her for conversation, I was just rewarded with a distant "hmm" or "yeah."

When I start playing an episode of _Bob's Burgers_—a show Elsa hates for some unknown reason—and she _still_ doesn't react, I knew it was serious. Muting the show, I take the half-full bowl of ice cream from her lap and place it on the table in front of us. Only when Elsa hits her leg with her spoon, does she finally break from her trance.

"Wha-?" she blinks down at her lap before looking at the TV, her eyebrows furrowing curiously. "Why are we watching _this_?"

I roll my eyes. "Because I knew you weren't paying any attention," I reply dryly. "Seriously, what's the last thing you actually _remember_ watching?"

She cringes slightly and looks anywhere but me as she answers, "About the middle of _The Ring_."

We had watched _two_ Disney movies between that and me putting on the current show.

I sigh heavily, yet place a comforting hand on Elsa's knee all the same. "Didn't help this time, huh?"

Elsa sighs herself and lets her head fall back on the couch. "Not a bit," she grumbles. Pausing, she sits up and rubs her stomach. "How many bowls of ice cream did I eat?"

"Six."

A huff.

"How many cartons?"

"Two and a half."

She groans and doubles over. "I don't feel so good."

"Do you want to cancel tonight?" I ask. "You don't need to push yourself."

"Of course I want to cancel tonight," Elsa says. "I'm ready to crawl back into a hole and forget the world, but I know you won't let me."

I frown at her choice of words. "I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to, Elsa."

She finally looks at me then, notices my expression, and tucks her head under my chin.

"I'm sorry," she mutters. "I didn't mean that."

"It's okay if you did," I manage to utter. "I feel like all I've done since I met you is push you in the deep end repeatedly, even though you've told me over and over you can't swim."

Weird analogy, but I have to roll with it.

Elsa grasps my shirt and emits a soft whine. "No, Anna, please don't think that! Y-You know I'm really grateful, r-right?" Pulling back she looks at me, flashing a meek smile. "This is just the fear talking, y-you know that."

"Is it though?" I can't help but retort somewhat bitterly.

"Yes!" she cries then, even shaking me for added effect. "Anna, I love you! I want this, really! I'm trying so hard to be brave, but the fear just keeps pulling me back! Every step forward feels like I'm taking ten steps back. But I w-want this; I do! Please believe me."

I look down at her and she takes the opportunity to kiss me, probably hoping desperately I'll see she's telling the truth through her actions.

"Through better or worse, right?" she whispers against my lips.

That elicits a laugh out of me and Elsa grins.

"We're not married, silly," I tell her cheekily.

"Doesn't mean it can't apply to relationships," she quips, kissing me again swiftly.

I roll my eyes again before I pull her back against my side. Huffing, I let my arm trail up and down her left arm, smiling slightly when Elsa hums in content.

"I just…can't help but feel sometimes that I'm forcing you to do all of this because I think I know what's best for you," I attempt to explain. "Then I feel like you go along with it because you know I love you and you don't want to let me down. But if you ever feel like that, I want you to tell me. You won't let me down, Elsa; no matter what you do. You won't let me, your parents, or the entire world down doing what _you_ think is best for you. I want you to understand that…"

"I do," she replies. "But I honestly needed the push, Anna. You may be constantly pushing me into the deep end, but—to continue your analogy—I needed that push. I could swim the entire time; I just needed someone to help me get my feet wet."

I laugh. "So perhaps I should have walked you from the shallow end to the deep end rather than throwing you off the diving board."

"Who knows how long that would've taken though," she chuckles.

We both snicker at the ridiculous nature of the conversation, despite it being completely true and real under the surface.

"But really, Anna," Elsa says after a while of us watching _Bob's Burgers _on mute, "I think I'm ready for tonight. I can't promise what will happen minutes before I go on, but…"

"I'll be there to help you through it," I finish, kissing the top of her head.

"I wouldn't want you anywhere else," she mumbles. "I hope you know that."

I squeeze her against my side harder.

"I do."

XxXxX

It's a quarter to nine, Elsa and I have arrived at the television station, she goes on in fifteen minutes, and now she's disappeared.

"I'll find her!" I shout to the quickly-becoming-frantic cast, dashing out of the filming room and taking off down one of the floor's many hallways.

Elsa had ended up calling Channel 4 a few weeks prior and had gotten a space on the channel's night time talk show, _The Magic Lamp_. She had said at the time she thought the atmosphere would be more relaxed than if she were to do an actual press release or something like that. Now, however, the cold feet was obviously setting in, regardless.

Apparently Elsa had been telling the truth earlier when she said she couldn't promise her state of mind minutes before the show started.

"Elsa?" I call as I open one of the three bathroom doors on the floor. "You in here?"

I pause to see if I can hear any labored breathing, sniffles, or gasps, but I'm greeted with nothing. Still, I venture in further to look under each stall, just to double check. After doing the same to the other two women's rooms, I'm half tempted to search the men's bathrooms as well.

Then I happen to pass an empty conference room and see Elsa sitting against the far wall—which, essentially, is a floor-to-ceiling window—with her head in her hands. The room is dark and the only light comes from the hallway and the city life around us.

"Elsa?" I call out softly.

Even from across the room, I see her tense, and I know I have my work cut out for me to get her back to the filming room in less than ten minutes.

"Elsa, hey," I whisper gently as I carefully approach her. Every step I take, I see her curl further in on herself and unbidden tears spring to my eyes at this. "Look, I can easily go tell the cast to call this whole thing off, okay? I'm sure Genie will understand."

'Genie,' full name Gene Williams is the host of _The Magic Lamp_ and a very kind, hilarious man. I had been with Elsa when she spoke to him about appearing on his show, and after telling him the entire story, he looked almost shocked—yet immensely proud—that Elsa wanted to share her past with all his viewers. He understood this was no small task, and so I'm certain he'd understand if Elsa couldn't go through with it yet.

"Everyone will think I'm a coward," she cries, her voice so broken it freaking starts to break my own heart.

"Hey, no, wait," I shush, immediately going to her and kneeling before her. "No one's going to think you a coward."

"Yes, they will!" Her voice cracks, and I can see for the first time how truly distraught she is. Looking up at me, tears run in rivulets down her face, her cheeks are a dark red, and there's a glimmer in her eyes that lets me know she's not one hundred percent _here_ at this moment. "Maybe you won't, but you should! I've seen the commercials about me being a guest tonight; what will everyone think when I chicken out?"

"You shouldn't _care_ what anyone thinks, Elsa," I tell her. "All you should care about is how _you_ feel about this. I know you're probably at war with yourself, and that in itself can be frightening; forget the immediate task at hand." Pulling back errant strands of her hair, I brush a few tears from her cheeks. "And I will _never_ think you a coward. You are the strongest person I know."

She shakes her head and chokes back a few sobs before burying her face back in her arms, bringing her knees up to make a protective ball. "You should," she repeats in a strained voice.

"Well, too bad; I'm never going to," I state even firmer.

"_But I am!_" she yells. "Don't you see that meeting you was some fluke? Had we never crossed paths I'd still be living my reclusive, cowardly life! Hiding away where it was safe; where I didn't put myself out there to please someone. Ever since meeting you my life's been a continuous, tortuous roller coaster that I just want off of!"

I swallow hard, an unbidden knot rising in my throat.

"You don't mean that, Elsa," I mumble. "It's just the fear talking again."

"What if it's not?! What if I mean every word, Anna?!"

Against my better judgement, anger rises within me.

"So, what, you're saying you regret everything now?" I snap. "That if I were out of your life, everything would go back to normal?"

Elsa blinks and new tears fall before her head's buried beneath her arms once more.

"I don't know…" she whimpers. "I don't know anything!"

Repressing my rash, unwanted anger, I take a deep breath before gently prying Elsa's arms away from her face. She looks up at me, broken and defeated, and I can only flash a smile, hoping she sees only the person who loves her, not someone else she falsely believes she needs to please.

"Elsa," I say, softly, gently, "you know more than you think. You're braver than you think, and you're more capable than you think. I know it doesn't seem like it, but you've just got to believe that you can do this. No one's going to think any different of you, and if they do, then fuck them." I see a smile flash across her face before I press my forehead to hers, our unspoken method of comfort; of knowing the other is there. "You do this tonight, and you _never_ have to be scared to go out in public again. You do this tonight, and another weight is lifted from your shoulders; _forever._ You do this tonight, and that fear will _never_ haunt you again."

"B-But there's so much more to come…" she rasps.

"And we'll conquer it when it comes, but tonight isn't the night to worry about that." Pulling back, I place my hands on her shoulders and look her dead in the eye. "Tonight, you go out there, you tell all those people what they want to hear, and you become even more of a hero to them because you're showing resilience; that you're fighting through your struggles; that you're in control of your life, not fate, not _God_; and, most importantly, that you're _back_."

I can see Elsa struggling internally, her emotions at turmoil inside of her to determine how the rest of this night proceeds. Squeezing her eyes shut, she grabs me in a big hug, and my heart lifts a bit when she expels a huge breath by my ear.

Pulling back, I grin when I see the hardened glint of determination and pride at the forefront of those blue orbs, only an inkling of fear lingering in their depths.

"O-Okay," she breathes, and I can't help but crash my lips to hers. She kisses back hungrily, eagerly, conveying all her unspoken thanks she couldn't possibly string into words.

Before we get too much further—'cause, hell, I'm tempted to—I pull back and without thinking, whisper huskily, "Go get 'em, baby."

Both of us blushing scarlet, I pull her up with me, and we walk back to the studio hand in hand. Elsa still tenses upon entering and I hear her gulp audibly beside me, but when I tighten my hold on her hand, I feel her relax—if only a bit—beside me.

"Ah, Miss Arendelle," Genie greets us with a warm smile. "So glad you decided to return."

Elsa's blush lingers as she glances to me before addressing him. "You have her to thank."

Genie's smile widens as he shakes his head, "No, my dear, we only have _you_ to thank. No one, despite what you may think, could have willed you back here but yourself."

A look of consternation crosses Elsa's face and I hide a laugh behind my hand. This guy's more philosophical than Milo.

"Sorry we didn't make it back here by nine," I offer as an apology, seeing the clock hanging above the set says nine-seventeen.

Genie looks at the clock as well but shrugs. "It can't be helped," he sighs. "Good thing that silly basketball game is in overtime, eh?"

So, I think with a grin, we didn't even miss a thing. Genie won't be able to go on until after the game anyway. Looking to Elsa, I see her looking slightly relieved, although I'm sure she was also hoping to get on with it and get it done as quickly as possible.

Now she has more time to think about everything.

"There's a table of refreshments over there," I point out, hoping to distract her until she goes on. "I think I saw pizza and chocolate."

Elsa huffs out a laugh before letting me pull her over and I'm handing her a slice of pizza before she can protest.

"A stomach full of ice cream may not be the best way to go on a show," I tell her with a grin. "You haven't eaten anything substantial all day, and as your amazing girlfriend, I won't let you do this unless you eat."

I'm half convinced she's going to simply retreat back into the dark shroud of fear and say that she simply won't eat in order to get out of tonight, but instead she gives me a grateful smile before taking a bite of the food.

"Thanks, Anna," she mumbles with a blush. She looks around the set briefly before leaning over and pecking my cheek. "You're too good to me."

"No I'm not," I retort playfully. "Just wait until Valentine's Day; your stuffed bear is going to be so big it'll barely fit in your apartment."

Elsa's smile turns coy. "Then your box of chocolates is going to need a crane just to get the lid off."

My mouth starts to water at the simple thought.

"Don't tease me with such delicacies, Elsa."

Winking, she replies, "Just you wait."

Shit, hurry up, February!

Unfortunately, our playful banter is cut short when a young, tanned boy wearing a headset approaches us.

"Miss Arendelle," he says, "my name is Aladdin; Genie's assistant and producer. If you're ready, we'd like to set you up with a mic. As guest of honor, you'll be going first."

Elsa pales slightly at that tidbit of information, but the calming presence of my hand on her shoulder keeps her resolve hardened.

"I'll be right over here," I tell her, indicating I intend to stay put with the refreshments. "And then, when you go on, I'll be right off set, so you can always see me, okay?"

Now staring the set down—a simple desk which Genie sits behind, organizing the papers for the night's show, a plush chair in which the guest sits, all in front of an outlined Manhattan skyline—Elsa nods imperceptibly, but I can feel the waves of gratitude coming off her despite it. Giving her shoulder one last squeeze, Elsa follows after Aladdin, who seems to fidget slightly now that they're more alone as he stammers, "I'm…really a huge fan, Miss Arendelle; and I think what you're doing in amazing and honorable. No matter what it is… I-I won't think any less of you."

I smile as I see Elsa blush at his kind words, and hope against all hope that this kid's awe of her will help her confidence rise. After all, there's only so much I alone can do.

Regrettably.

Scowling at my lack of being a superior human being, I stuff my mouth full of chocolate chip cookies. Elsa will call me over before they're ready to begin. In the meantime, I have to think of more ways to go above and beyond for this girl I would give the sun, moon and sky for if I could. And chocolate helps me think.

Sure enough, as the show is about to start, Elsa calls me over. Heading to her quickly, I break out into a grin in hope to alleviate any lingering nerves as she takes my hand.

"Anna," she begins, biting her lip as she averts her gaze from me, "i-if Genie asks…I don't know if I can…a-admit what you really are to me."

I suppose I can't really blame Elsa for that, but an indignant spark of hurt rises within me all the same.

"So I'm just the best friend again?"

"No!" she immediately cries, doing her best to keep her voice down as the show's begun and Genie's started introducing what the night holds. "Anna, please understand; this doesn't change my love for you. I just… I'm already admitting a lot tonight…do you really expect me to come out too?"

"Wouldn't it just be easier to get it all over with along with everything else?" I ask.

"If people think wrongly of us, I don't want anyone to come down on you," she says.

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Elsa, this is New York City, not some rural county in Alabama or something; anyone against gays probably know better enough to keep their mouths shut. And I grew up in _Kentucky_ knowing I was gay since I was thirteen; you don't think I know how to handle or ignore people's spiteful hate?"

"Look, I just don't think I can do this now, okay?!" she basically shouts at me. Well, as loud as shouting can be when it's whispered.

"Okay," I whisper back, mostly to placate her. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I understand."

"But I _do_ want to, Anna," she tells me. "It's just I don't think I can."

I shrug. "It's still okay," I reply. "We'll work on that later, okay?"

Hesitating to meet my eyes, she asks, "Do you still love me?"

Chuckling, I kiss her forehead before pulling her to me in a hug. "Of course I do, Elsa."

"I'm sorry I'm so much trouble," she mumbles against my shoulder, still wrapped in my hug.

"You're anything but trouble. Just because you can't do something I could doesn't make you a nuisance or diminish my love for you." Pulling her back, I stroke her cheek before saying, "We'll take more about this later if you want, alright? For now, just go out and there and do what we came here to do."

Elsa nods and takes a deep breath. I go to stand behind her and start to rub her shoulders. Hearing her sigh pleasantly, I grin.

We remain like that until Aladdin comes over to us again. Damn that kid for always interrupting us.

"Genie's about to go to commercial break, but as soon as the show returns, you'll be up," he explains.

"Okay," Elsa breathes. "I'm ready."

Within five minutes, Elsa's standing just off set, waiting for her cue to walk out and to the guest chair. Within five minutes, everything Elsa's spent the last year and a half struggling to hide is about to be brought to the surface. And not to just some redheaded girl she fell in love with; the whole world.

Or, the entirety of Genie's audiences, but you can bet the news will still spread fast regardless, and in no time the entire world will know, but you get it.

"And now," Genie's voice breaks my internal ramble, "our first guest this evening is someone who has kept herself hidden from public eye for over a year. Until now. Please help me in welcoming Olympic gold medalist, Elsa Arendelle."

The live audience in the studio begins to applaud madly and I throw in my own bout of clapping for the hell of it, hoping Elsa can hear it and know I still have her back despite the fact that I'm not on that stage with her. She shuffles quickly to her seat, yet I'm proud of her when I see her look out to the audience with a soft smile, and not immediately scuttle back off stage.

Not that I thought she would actually _do_ that, but with how much she was fearing going on, the thought still persisted in my mind.

"Thank you, Genie," she says once she's seated, and I'm sure I'm the only one who could detect the slight waver to her voice.

"It's my pleasure, Elsa," the host responds. "It's not every night I get such an idol on my show."

Elsa looks away and blushes and I can't help but smile at her mannerisms. God damn, she really is too adorable for her own good.

"So," Genie begins with a sigh, "shall we get straight to business? I hear it was quite an accomplishment to get a slot on my show tonight to say what you want. Something that caused a former star to suddenly disappear, not only from the spotlight, but from the general public period, must really be something."

Elsa nods and I see her rub her hands on her jeans as she gulps and looks to the floor. She's up.

"I-It is," she stutters before clearing her throat. "I never…intended to 'go into hiding' or something, but then again, another part of me never wanted to let others know what had happened."

"What provided the final push?" Genie asks with a smile, and the one on my face grows in turn.

Elsa blushes again and looks back at the floor. "Not what," she mumbles. "_Who_."

The audience "oohs" at this and Genie's doing his best to act like he had no idea what was coming.

"A special someone for our Elsa?"

She nods and looks out past the cameras and audience and spots me among the rest of the crew. Since she had walked on, I had made my way back here so she'd be able to see me during her time on air. Giving her a reassuring, loving smile, I wink.

"Y-Yes," she stammers from the surprise of my flirty wink—that was mean of me, I know; sorry—but then she fixes Genie with a proud stare, and in the firmest of voices, asserts, "She is."

There might not have been any emphasis on the "she," but regardless, I'm incredibly proud of Elsa. Despite her earlier fears, she basically just outed herself to the entire viewing audience, even if she doesn't think she did because it wasn't as blunt as I think she was thinking she'd have to be.

Wow, that was a jumble. Did that make sense?

Genie's just smiling like a child, and I immediately think of Olaf, wondering if he, Marshall, and the rest of the kids are watching this with their parents at this moment.

"Well, let her know we're all incredibly indebted to her," Genie jokes.

Elsa chuckles briefly, her confidence subtly on the rise. "Oh, she knows."

The audience laughs a bit at that, and although Elsa blushes once more, she manages to look back out to the crowd briefly before her attention is back on Genie.

"So, the story?" Genie prods gently.

Elsa sighs. "The story."

During the next few minutes, I had never been so proud of Elsa. Everything had changed for her. All of her shadows and regrets, all the secrets she worked so hard to bury deep inside of her and her past, were laid bare; and this time it wasn't to someone she had come to form an intense bond with, but a bunch of strangers she would most likely never learn the names of.

The past was in the past.

I had been intently watching the audience's reactions to her story and therefore noticed the numerous gasps, looks of pain, and morose understanding that moved across them as Elsa told her tale.

When the time came for the biggest reveal of all, Elsa went above and beyond by actually removing her brace completely, leaving her stump—scar and all—exposed for any and all to see. This surprised me even, as Elsa had not told me she was considering doing such a thing. Regardless, this only made me more proud of her. After she had fixed the brace back in place, she looked back at Genie, patiently waiting for what he had to say and how he would address this—despite him having already known and giving his sincere condolences.

"Well Elsa," he says, "I'm sure there is nothing we can say to truly bring back what you've lost, and I'm sure you're already on your way to knowing there was nothing you could have done to avoid these unfortunate incidences; but I'm sure I can speak for my audience and the rest of the viewers at home when I say how sorry I am that this happened to you. Someone as young and innocent as you doesn't deserve something like this. I'm sure you have many fans and even complete strangers who will rally behind you as you continue your journey through grief and to recovery."

Still studying the audience, my smile grows as I see several audience members nod in agreement to Genie's statement, some even going as far as applauding Elsa's bravery. Despite have shown her injury in its rawest form, not one person bears a look of disgust; rather, the only thing I can gather from everyone's reaction is sympathy. Pure, unbridled sympathy.

"So, what's the next step for you, Elsa?" Genie asks next.

"Well…" Elsa pauses and searches for me again. Locking eyes, I see the question present in her and give a subtle nod. A smile flickering across her face, she answers. "I'm hoping to get a prosthetic. I know it's going to be a difficult task, and perhaps the hardest part of this entire thing has yet to happen, but I know…" She blushes and finishes in a rushed mumble, "As long as she's by my side, I can do it."

I beam as the audience "awwws" before applauding once more. Even though it's now more obvious that this "special someone" is a girl and there may very well be romantic feelings present, there hasn't been any immediate outcry nor has anyone voiced their displeasure. I mean, I honestly wasn't expecting any as New York City is a pretty "gay-friendly" city. At least from what I've gathered in my months here.

Genie's smiling dreamily and I muffle a giggle at his expression. Good to know Elsa and I have our own fan base gathering.

Elsa remains on air for a few more minutes as Genie asks her a couple more questions. Now that everyone knows what happened to cause Elsa's disappearance, the next question on the world's mind is: will she ever return to boxing?

"I hope so," is Elsa's reply. "Boxing is actually how I met…_her_, and I've been missing it an awful lot lately. Even if I can't compete at the level I used to, I'll still be ecstatic just to compete at any level again."

"Well, here's hoping everything turns your way in the end," Genie says. "We're all rooting for you, Elsa."

Blushing yet again, Elsa mumbles out a thanks. Genie beams once more as they both stand.

"Elsa Arendelle, everyone! Let's give her a round of applause, huh? Tonight took a lot of guts!"

Not only does she get a round of applause, but the audience gives her a freaking standing ovation, and I have to jump just to see over everyone's heads. My face hurts from smiling so much, but I pay the pain no mind. It's worth it if it means I know Elsa's now free from so many demons of her past. And sure, we both know there's still hell to come—after all, we haven't even _started_ the process of getting her prosthetic—but this brief bereavement is definitely not going to go underappreciated.

Elsa's long off the set when the audience finally settles back down enough the Genie can continue the show, but I'm no longer paying attention as I run back offset to search for my girl. Seeing her downing a bottle of water, another grin splits my face as I run to her.

"You did it, Elsa!"

She drops the water as I grab her and pick her up, spinning her around like they do in those cheesy romantic movies. But damn it, this is a big fucking deal, so I'm going to be as cliché as I want to be.

"I'm so proud of you, Els!" I cry as I continue spinning us around. Finally setting her down, I kiss her hard on the lips, not caring who's around to watch. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she tells me after I've pulled away.

"You even told everyone about me!" I exclaim. "Even if you didn't mean to, that's big!"

"I guess it just slipped out," she mumbles with a blush. "But you've played such a big role in all this, being by my side since the beginning, you don't deserve to be hidden away."

I give her a peck on the cheek as I repeat, "I'm proud of you."

She beams and hugs me again, and soon I hear soft sobs coming from her as she buries into my hoodie.

"I'm just so relieved this is over," she sighs, trying to catch her breath.

"You never have to think of it again," I point out.

"And did you see everyone's faces? No one looked revolted or anything!"

"Everything's great, Elsa," I agree. "We can take the next several days to just relax and live our lives before we conquer the next hurdle. You deserve it."

Smiling somewhat shyly, yet also managing to be flirty, she whispers, "As long as you're next to me for every second."

Blushing and grinning, I reply, "I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else."


	25. Chapter 24: Water Break

**Wow guys, I'm **_**truly, deeply, utterly**_** sorry for the **_**month long wait**_**… Believe me, I never intend for this story to take so long in updating. And I already feel guilty about it so no guilt shaming in your reviews, you hear? ;)**

**Anyway, just please know I hate these mini-hiatuses as much as you do, and if I had the time and energy, I'd be dishing out chapters as fast as you can read them. **

**Good news (and bad, I guess, depending on if you're reading it and like it), Still of the Night will be over within the next two chapters, which means all of my time will be back on Sucker Punch. AND DON'T ANYONE LET ME START WRITING A NEW STORY FOR ALL THESE DAMN IDEAS IN MY HEAD, OKAY?! Seriously, if I post something, just ridicule it so bad I'm forced to take it down out of shame, okay? ;)**

**Note: That was a bit over the top, but please try and stop me if I act like I'm starting something else. **

**So, to reward you all for your patience and never once bugging me about when I'm going to update next (seriously, guys, thank you for understanding, or at least tolerating it), here's an angst-free, fluff-filled chapter. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24: Water Break<strong>

It was well into December before anything else monumental happened in my and Elsa's life together. Well, I say "life together," but not in the sense you think. I mean, yeah, we were officially "girlfriends" now and we're technically "dating," but it wasn't like we were living with each other or anything like that. I mean things that affected both Elsa and me; like her big reveal a few weeks ago had.

Get it?

Well, regardless, nothing much had changed besides Elsa being much more relaxed. Sure, there were still times when she would be out in public, someone would look at her or say something to her, and her past residual fears still fought their way to the surface. But usually when I was around, I was able to talk her out of it, and all would be fine and dandy.

And I was around all the time. Well, more or less.

Neither of us had brought up moving in together yet, as I think we both felt like it was such a big, meaningful step, and we didn't really know how to approach it. I mean, it's not just casual conversation is it? It's not like Elsa and I could be sitting on one of our couch's one night and one of us just up and say, "so, ever thought about moving in?" I mean, what?

Still, we had sleepovers at least three times a week, and we tried to alternate whose apartment was used, but it usually ended up in me going over to Elsa's. I mean, hers _was_ bigger. It was further from my work, but that was about its only downfall. Besides, it made me work to get up earlier—which had always been one of my greater faults—but everything was worth it when I would walk out and find Elsa had made me breakfast, or she wanted to go to work with me and surprise the kids.

Now that the annual boxing tournaments had come and gone, Elsa and I weren't really focused on training anymore. We still went to the gym, of course, and I did still put that boxing room to good use, but it was mainly fun and games now. I had devoted a good amount of time researching other boxing tournaments out of state, but so far hadn't found anything I could afford to go to—one tournament being all the way out in California.

So, life had essentially slowed down for the both of us. We were just taking life one day at a time, and it was great. Sure, Elsa still had nightmares along with any lingering fears, but she had come a long way and I couldn't hold anything against her. I had also kept quiet about taking the next step to getting a prosthetic and joining a group. I knew she had probably be looking forward to that even less than she had going on live TV, so I did my best to refrain from bringing it up. We all know how well it went last time I tried to push her in that direction.

Things were going so well for us, the last thing I wanted was to fuck anything up.

Even then, I couldn't help but think the _latest_ we should start this next endeavor was the beginning of the New Year. Surely Elsa had put it off long enough? Hadn't she learned that simply getting it over with was better than the anticipation of putting it off again and again?

But nope, I'm not going to say anything.

Probably.

XxXxX

"Anna."

It was early in the morning, and if I knew anything from how tired and sluggish I was, it was early as in, like, before seven early.

"_Anna_…"

Still, the hour of the day didn't seem to put off the angel whispering in my ear.

"Get up," it whispers gently, and I could feel a weight roll on top of me.

"Mmmmmh, yeah?" I mumble, blearily opening my eyes.

My vision fills with ocean blue and white gold and I know it's fruitless to try and stop the grin from taking over.

Oh yeah, Elsa had also become a lot more affectionate lately, did I forget to mention that? If I did, one may be surprised to see Elsa on top of me and staring me down lovingly as she tries to rouse me from sleep.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she says with a laugh, once she knows she has my attention.

She leans down to kiss my lips and I sigh in bliss as her hand comes to rest at my side, gently trailing upwards underneath my shirt.

"Good morning to you too," I whisper back, breaking the kiss. "Why are you getting me up so early though? I don't have work today."

Her hand stops right beneath my breast and I inhale sharply as her nails now skim back down and rake across my stomach. Meanwhile, she looks at me and I'll never understand how she can make hooded eyes look so innocent. Like she doesn't have a hand under my shirt and is doing indescribable things to my body, despite it still being in the process of waking up.

"I know," she replies, her hand now cupping my cheek as she kisses the opposite one. "But I was getting bored."

"So you decide to start a make out session at seven in the morning?"

The small chuckle I release quickly turns into a hitch of my breath as Elsa traces my left earlobe with her tongue.

"Are you complaining?" she murmurs in a sultry voice.

A playful bite before she moves to suckle at my neck.

"Nngh," I gasp. "No, no definitely not."

I feel her smile against my skin before she switches sides and kisses the opposite ear and leaves a bruising hickey on the other side of my neck. Meanwhile, I'm tempted to just fall back asleep, because Elsa has me feeling so relaxed and I know she'll continue her onslaught until I'm awake once more.

Finished and content with her work, she pulls back, and I crack an eye open to look up at her. She grins.

"Now get up," she states.

I groan. "God, Elsa, you're such a tease."

Still, I push myself up on my elbows before kissing her lips again. We're both grinning like idiots as I mumble, "But I wouldn't have you any other way."

So yeah, Elsa's _methods _for waking me up lately have really improved, and more often than not I'm immediately showering to cool down, because _damn_ can this girl turn me on.

But I'm not complaining!

One last kiss and Elsa rolls off me and gets out of bed, leaving me in a giant puddle of hot desire.

"Seriously, get up," she tells me, though her voice is light. "I have some surprises for you today."

I'm instantly upright at her words and I look to her, catching her gaze in the mirror above her dresser.

"Wait, surprise_s_? As in, more than one?"

Turning back to look at me, she winks before casually strolling out the door.

"You'll have to get out of bed to find out!" I hear her jest from her living room.

I get dressed and ready in record timing that day.

An hour later, we're getting off the subway on the southwest side of Central Park, close to my apartment—Elsa lives on the southeast side. We turn several corners before Elsa has us stopped in front of a familiar restaurant front.

"This is…!"

"The diner we came to the first time I asked you out," Elsa finishes, a proud undertone lacing her voice even with the slight blush that has taken over her face.

Sure enough, it is. The night Elsa treated me to a meal at one-thirty in the morning after her weeks-long ignorance of me many months ago. This was the start to it all, and now we're back and I get the feeling that's significant somehow.

"Soooo… Why are we here?" I question.

Elsa laughs as she pulls me inside. "To eat, silly."

"I mean why _here_?"

Grinning like the sly little bitch she is—hey, I mean it in jest!—she just sits down in a vacant booth before hiding behind her menu.

I don't bring it up the rest of the time.

After breakfast—which was another split stack of pancakes that Elsa again fought me tooth and nail to pay for, because that _really_ brought home the nostalgia of it all—Elsa takes my hand as we bypass the subway station in favor to walk through the park.

A couple weeks into December in New York means it's pretty damn cold. Usually this would bother me, but somehow simply having my hand in Elsa's, the snow crunching beneath our shoes, my body brushing up against hers every step we take, makes everything manageable. No, not even simply "manageable;" _warm_.

"So, now what?" I can't help asking, and Elsa should know by now how insatiable my curiosity is.

"Now, we're taking a walk," she answers once again in a cocky manner and I have half a mind to smack the grin off her face.

"You're really not going to make this easy for me, huh?"

With a wink, she replies, "Nope."

Yes, audiences of all ages, even I'm surprised sometimes with how much Elsa's changed.

We continue walking for a while, hand in hand, with me making continuous prompts for Elsa to clue me in to where we're going. Our playful banter of, "Tell me." "No." "Tell me!" "No!" "I'll take you to the ground and kiss it out of you." "_Anna_!" continues for a solid ten minutes, before I actually take the time to observe my surroundings and recognize what area of the park we're in.

And what this area usually holds this time of year, when the park is covered in snow and there's a particular bite to the air.

My stomach drops and I grind to a halt, stopping Elsa with me.

"Elsa, we're not…"

"Finally catching on, are we?"

"You're expecting me to _ice skate_?"

Elsa shrugs. "It snows and gets cold in Kentucky, right?"

"That doesn't mean I automatically know how to skate!"

Elsa manages to get me walking again and we soon round a large tree and come face to face with an ice skating rink. In the middle of Central Park. With hundreds of people around.

"Look, I'll teach you, okay?" Elsa reassures me while rubbing my shoulders. "It's like riding a bike." Looking down at me with a grin, she jabs, "You _do_ know how to ride a bike?"

Chuckling and batting her hand away, I reply in the affirmative.

Of course, I don't know what Elsa was thinking, because riding a bike and ice skating are two _completely_ different concepts. I mean, sure, I guess they do both incorporate balance, but one has you on wheels and the other you're on your feet!

And Elsa should know how I am on my feet, what with all the times I've tripped over nothing or walked smack into a wall or doorframe—and yes, I've done all of this stone-cold sober. Still though, she's dragging me to the rental booth and ordering me a pair of skates despite my claims.

"Just be glad I didn't take you to Rockefeller Center," she tells me as she ties my skates for me, somehow managing to get hers on in, like, a minute. "The people that skate there are really good; professionals, even. The park here is for beginners and people just having fun."

I watch a kid fall flat on his back and I wince. I can't help but question Elsa's definition of fun as the kid begins to cry.

"You'll be okay," Elsa tells me as she pulls me unsteadily to my feet—and we're not even on the rink yet. "And if you _do_ get hurt, I'll kiss any boo-boos better tonight."

Damn, now she's just being flirty like it's nothing.

"Now I'm just going to be falling over the place," I quip with a grin before I become more serious as we approach the ice. "You do know I'm going to make a fool of myself, right?"

"Well, then you'll just be _my_ fool."

I can't take it anymore and spin—somehow in my skates—to face her.

"_What_ is with you today?" I balk. "I mean, not that I'm opposed to waking up to you kissing me or this…flirty side of you, but it just came out of nowhere!"

And suddenly, like that, the playful smirk that has been present in Elsa's eyes all day vanishes, replaced by uncertainty and—I start to hate myself—a bit of fear.

"I was just trying to make this day all about you," she explains. "I wanted to show you how grateful I am for all you've done and who you've become to me. I never feel like I _show_ you how much I love you." Then in a mumble, she adds, "And I thought you'd like the flirty-ness."

I laugh as I cup her right cheek, lifting her head so she's looking at me.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," I tell her honestly. "I was just surprised, is all."

"Do I not pull it off well?" she asks next.

"What, flirting?" She nods and I scoff playfully. "Not at all. You suck."

My reward for that jab is a swift punch to the arm, and I'm shying away from any more hits as we both continue to laugh.

"Really though, Elsa," I say, "you don't have to change anything about you just to show me you love me. I can tell. I know without you even trying."

"So I should just leave the flirting to you?" she asks meekly.

"Now I didn't say that!" I exclaim with a wink.

"Sorry, Anna," she mumbles, smiling abashedly. "Just let me finish this day out, and I'll tone things down."

"Deal," I quip. "Now, I believe you were about to teach me how to skate?"

Elsa immediately regains the gleam to her eyes, but this time I notice the lack of flirtatiousness present; just love. Unconditional, unbridled love.

And that makes me blush harder than any of her earlier teasing could possibly.

XxXxX

"Where are we going _now_?" I ask as Elsa guides me through the streets of Manhattan while covering my eyes. "It better not be the rink at Rockefeller 'cause I already made enough of a fool of myself, thank you!"

Elsa chuckles in my ear and replies, "It's not Rockefeller. We wouldn't be walking there."

"Then _where_?"

"It's a surp-."

"A _surprise_, I know," I grumble.

Elsa laughs once more. "Patience, dear Anna."

So, ice skating wasn't as much of a disaster as I had thought it would be. Yeah, I fell a few hundred times, and even managed to pull Elsa down with me a few, but in the end we just laughed it all off. I'm also proud to say that I wasn't the only adult falling out there as there was one guy doing almost worse than me.

And that's saying something.

Elsa led me around the rink a few times by pulling me with her before leaving me clinging to a wall so she could skate freely. And show off, the…well, _show off_. Seriously, if she hadn't gone to the Olympics for boxing, she could have for ice skating. She could spin, jump and land perfectly; she seemed to have been born on the ice. Maybe if she couldn't compete in boxing anymore, she could take up skating.

I'll have to remember to mention that.

Now, however, I'm left to simply wander blindly with Elsa as my only guide.

"Are we almost there at least?" I finally ask again.

"Yes," Elsa answers. "We're…here!"

At that, she removes her hands from my eyes and I look around. Nothing immediately stands out, the corner of 57th and 5th meaning nothing to me.

"I don't get it," I lamely tell her, glancing to her basically bouncing up and down while waiting for me to catch on.

"Look across the street."

I do, and a bit diagonal from where we're standing currently is a large building with a bunch of Christmas lights. I blink.

"Still nothing."

Elsa huffs and shoves me. "What a girl you are," she mumbles. Taking my hand, she all but drags me across the street until we're standing right outside the door. Gesturing to the name above the door, I look up. "Get it _now_?"

Oh.

_Ohhhhh_.

"T-Tiffany's?!"

I'm staring her with my mouth hanging open and she just has this smug look on her face like she takes girls to Tiffany's all the time.

"I want to show you something," she tells me, blushing for only the second time today despite all the coquettish remarks she's spilled thus far.

"Elsa…" I'm lost for words. "You didn't…"

Her blush darkens as she mumbles, "I might have…"

Without saying anything else, she leads me into the store.

Even though I may have been a tomboy growing up, and even now didn't have much interest in jewelry, I realize what a big deal Tiffany's is, and Tiffany's in _New York City_…

All of a sudden I'm beginning to fear Elsa is going to ask to marry me.

Not that that's necessarily a bad thing! But, it _is_ awfully early.

The more rational side of me sighs and casts off my worry, used to my over reactive brain. Of _course_ it's not a wedding ring.

Still, as we pass by all these cases full of expensive jewelry, I can't imagine what we're doing here.

"Hi," Elsa speaks to one of the workers, still not having let go of my hand. "I'm here to pick up a special order. The name's Arendelle?"

'Special order?' God, that's almost _worse_ than a wedding ring! Elsa doesn't have to be doing _any_ of this!

"Elsa," I tug at her sleeve, "seriously, w-what are you doing?"

Perhaps because she too is questioning her motives here, as she refuses to look my way or answer. When the clerk comes back with a signature blue box—bigger than a ring box, I sigh with relief—my heart begins to pound so loud I'm sure the entire store can hear.

Elsa peeks in the box as I respectfully look away before she's pulling me up next to her.

"I know I didn't have to," she begins, "but I _wanted _to, okay? I know this probably seems like too much to you, Anna, but to me, you deserve all of this and more so…"

She passes me the box and I numbly take it, acting mainly on autopilot. Her blush still hasn't diminished in the slightest and she bites her lip and looks to the floor.

"I hope you like it," she whispers.

Carefully opening the box, I'm met with the most beautiful necklace I've ever seen. Sitting on the black felt is a pendant of two silver boxing gloves bumping fists, a gold heart encasing them. The chain looks like its made from freaking diamonds, but I'm assuming it's most likely silver as well. My mouth falls open once more as I pull the necklace from the box.

"Elsa…" I utter, my voice wavering heavily.

"Do you like it?" she asks; a hopeful, yet desperate undertone to her voice. "Is it too over the top? Is the heart too corny?"

I let out a wet chuckle, turning the gloves and heart over in my hand. She's beginning to sound like me when she frets.

And it's fucking adorable.

_She's_ fucking adorable.

"This whole day has been over the top," I'm muttering, still staring transfixed at the piece of jewelry, "but that doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed every minute of it, or that any of it's over the top." Finally looking to her, I beam, "I love it, Elsa."

She lets out a huge breath of relief and before she can do anything else, I have her in a bone-crushing hug.

"Thank you," I whisper. "It's beautiful."

I feel her smile into my neck before she pulls away and gently takes the necklace from me.

"Can I put it on you?" she asks.

I nod excitedly and spin so my back's facing her. With the upmost care, she fastens the piece securely around my neck, a symbol of my passion and love now hanging delicately by Rapunzel's bullet. As soon as it's on and settled, I turn back around and kiss her on the lips. Damn being in the middle of a famous, crowded jewelry store.

The best part though?

Elsa kisses back feverishly.

In public.

XxXxX

By eight o'clock, we're back at Elsa's, a large pizza on the coffee table before us, the two of us snuggled against each other and covered by a mound of blankets, and mindlessly watching Netflix.

And seriously, I mean mindlessly because neither of us are really aware as to what's playing at the moment.

Since, you know…we're making out.

"Mmh, today was amazing, Elsa," I tell her, somehow having managed to climb into her lap while still staying under the blankets. "I can't thank you enough for the necklace."

Elsa kisses up my neck until her nose is nuzzling my cheek and she whispers, "So you really like it?"

Foreheads pressed together, I finger the necklace once more; something I haven't been able to stop doing since we left Tiffany's.

"Are you kidding?" I giggle. "I haven't been able to keep my hands off it."

Elsa chuckles too and kisses me hard on the lips before taking my hand with the necklace and placing it around her neck, causing me to finally drop it.

"I know," she murmurs. "It's getting more action than I am. I'm getting jealous, honestly."

My hand around her neck moves up to tangle in her hair as I pull back in for yet another kiss, pushing the limits as I swipe my tongue across her bottom lip.

"Well," I husk against her lips, "luckily for you, the necklace can't kiss me like this."

"This is true," she agrees lightly, her hand coming to caress my cheek. She takes a moment to gaze at me with such awe and adoration I'm blushing and looking away before she speaks again. "I love you so much, you know?"

"I do," I mumble, and I hate that fact that I'm so embarrassed by her displays of affection. It's not like I haven't craved just this since meeting her. "I just… No one's ever told me that and really _meant_ it."

"Then none of those people deserved you in the first place," Elsa tells me with conviction, her hand still stroking my cheek, her null limb resting lightly against my left side.

Beaming, I peck her on the nose and whisper, "I love you too. So much."

We stay like that a moment longer, me in her lap and us exchanging kisses everywhere there's skin exposed, before I pull back with a gasp, overcome with what I think is a great idea.

"Let's go to a club!"

"A c-club?"

"Yeah!" I'm instantly on my feet, the blankets pooling at my socks. "C'mon, it'll be fun! You need a big celebration for all you've accomplished. Something other than doting on me hand and foot. So, to repay you, I'm taking you out."

"To a club…"

For some reason Elsa just can't get past that point.

"That's what I said!"

"Where did this urge come from? We can't just…" she blushes, "kiss some more?"

"We can kiss there too!"

"But we'd be in public…"

"You kissed me back in Tiffany's today," I remind her. "Plus, it's a club, people will be making out all around us, right? I mean I wouldn't know, there aren't many clubs in Kentucky, but that's how it is in movies right?"

"Anna, I can't dance!"

Ah, so there's the truth.

Laughing, I roll my eyes before pulling Elsa to her feet.

"And I can't ice skate." When she still looks unsure, I lean in to kiss her again. "Look, I can't really dance either, okay? But no one's going to care. We're just going to go out, have some fun, maybe you can get some drinks, loosen back up, and enjoy the rest of the night, okay?" Putting on my best puppy-dog look, I add for dramatic measure, "Pleeeease? For me?"

That gets a small chuckle out of her as well as a huff before she looks back at me.

"Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>Oooh, also, one last thing: Smut or no smut? I feel I can work it in, but I think the story will be just fine without it as well. <strong>


	26. Chapter 25: Let the Body Breathe

***clears throat* So… Yeah, this chapter…**

**Most of you either said you wanted smut or the story could go either way. I wanted your input on the off chance people were like "hell no, it'd ruin everything," but the honest truth is that I had this chapter planned regardless. Along with the scene from chapter 10 where Anna and Elsa fight, the final scene of this chapter was thought up before anything else. This was going to happen, not only because Elsanna smut is hella hot and we all need it in our lives, but because it's character development. In a way, it's an integral part to the story.**

**Which is probably why I'm so nervous to post this chapter. Not only were a lot of you anxiously awaiting it, but I wanted it to be perfect because I feel it's part of what makes this story. That, and it was my first time writing smut in first person, so hopefully it's not too awkward.**

**Lastly, special thank you to NicPie, who I've probably bothered incessantly with my worries about this chapter and how long it took me to write (although it didn't take another month, so yay me!). You're awesome for putting up with me. So here's some smut specially dedicated to you. ;) Enjoy.**

**And, enjoy everyone else!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 25: Let the Body Breathe<strong>

Convincing Elsa to go to a club in the first place wasn't the hardest part, unfortunately.

She took her sweet time getting ready—something I will always deduce was intentional in hopes I'd change my mind—and then kept fretting that she wasn't dressed appropriately the entire way there. Despite my constant quelling that she looked stunning, yet inconspicuous—'cause she'd really always look beautiful to me, even in her most basic button up and jeans—she insisted she'd stand out. Then, she started worrying about her arm again.

I know deep down she knew she was blowing things out of proportion, yet I couldn't be upset with her for freaking out. This was still a big step; everything would be from now on, I realized then. Just because Elsa had outed her demons on live TV didn't mean everything was automatically over. People may be even more curious now, and more insistent to come up and talk to her. In a club setting, however, I doubt that'd be the truth, but it wasn't good enough for Elsa.

Throughout all her worry though, Elsa ended up picking the club, a small hole-in-the-wall in the West Village. I didn't think I was ready for anything large-scale in the center of Manhattan yet, still feeling out of place in a large city like this even after months of being a resident, and I knew Elsa wanted there to be as few people as possible, so we kept it small.

Still, upon entering—of which I didn't have to pull or push Elsa as much as I was expecting, she went mostly willingly—it was unlike the _one_ club I had had the pleasure of experiencing back in Louisville. Even with its small look from the outside, the interior was much more roomy than it let on. The bar was nestled in the back right corner, the DJ in the back left, a few tables and booths were crammed along the right wall, and the rest was the dance floor. Much better than the tiny space allotted at the one back home.

It wasn't real rave-y either. The music wasn't all bass-thumping over-the-top dance music that you basically had to mosh pit to dance to and there weren't neon lasers and dry ice everywhere; it was much more subdued. There was your normal lighting all around, dimmed to adequate brightness for a club, and the only flashing colored lights were above the DJ and dance floor, not all over the place, and even they weren't as showy as you'd think.

"This place is awesome," I breathe as soon as we enter.

"It is quaint," Elsa agrees. "I came here a few times before…"

When she trails off, I take her hand and squeeze it. "But you came back," I say. "That's big, Elsa."

Seeing her smile somewhat sheepishly, my own lips quirk in response. We observe the crowd before us a bit more before mixing in. Surprisingly, Elsa doesn't seem tense beside me. For all the hell she gave me on the way here, I was expecting more resistance getting her in here. Perhaps that's why she picked this place over all others: it's familiar territory.

Just…unfamiliar circumstances.

"You want to get some drinks?" I ask. "Loosen up some before we hit the dance floor?"

Stilling surveying the room, she nods silently. "If he still works here, an old acquaintance of mine works the bar."

"Ooh! Maybe he'll spike my drink!"

Elsa chuckles before we finally start to make our way to the right side of the room. We find a vacant booth, but I don't slide in quite yet.

"Do you want me to come with you?" I ask. "I know I can't go up to the bar directly, but I can wait right behind you."

"It's okay," she tells me with a small smile. "I appreciate it, Anna, really, but… I can do this."

"Okay," I beam back at her. "Confidence; I'm liking that! Still, I'll keep a watchful eye out should someone start bothering you too much or any pesky boys try to hit on you!"

Elsa rolls her eyes. "You're not going to protect me from the girls?"

I blink. "The girls?"

"It's a gay club, Anna."

My mouth forms a perfect 'o' as I finally notice the rainbow flag hanging above the front door. Come to think of it, what I recognize as the trans flag hangs beside it too, as well as several other flags I don't even know.

"I'll keep an eye on them too, then," I mumble, embarrassed.

Elsa giggles a bit before ruffling my hair. "I'll be right back. What do you want?"

"Uh, a virgin piña colada?"

Winking, she leans in to kiss me before sauntering off. My heart pounds in my chest not just from the kiss, but also from the confidence that is now emanating from Elsa in waves.

I knew a club would help.

In no time, Elsa's back at our booth without any qualms. People had spoken to her, and I heard a few people talking around me that 'Elsa Arendelle is here,' yet she'd still been left alone for the most part.

And they say people in New York City are rude as can be.

"Virgin piña colada, with perhaps just a _hint_ of rum," Elsa announces as she presents me with my drink, complete with its own tiny umbrella.

"Oooh, we're such rebels," I snicker conspiratorially.

Not that I condone public underage drinking, mind you. But, we're out to celebrate, and if that involves an eighteen—almost nineteen!—year-old sipping a bit of rum, well… Live and let live, right?

Besides, I know I have Elsa to look after me; and I'm certain she'll have no more than two drinks, no matter how much fun she ends up having.

"So," I begin as we each sip our respective drinks, "you used to be a regular here?"

Elsa averts her eyes and, even in the dim lighting, I see a blush begin to creep up her neck. "I…may have frequented it a bit when I was single, yes."

"Any of the girls ever strike your fancy?" I question seductively, even going as far as to wiggle my eyebrows.

"I really never…strayed far from the bar."

Now I'm laughing. "Elsa, don't tell me you were _shy_! I would've _never_ guessed!"

She shoots me a playful glare before my shin is kicked from underneath the table, effectively shutting me up.

"I was still trying to find out what I was into!" she defends, her blush darkening. "How did you…you know…know you were gay?"

I scoff. "Please, I was born on a rainbow."

That gets a loud laugh—as well as a snort of her Long Island Iced Tea—from Elsa, and I'm grinning like an idiot.

"Yup, baby Anna was dressed in a rainbow diaper and laid to sleep in a rainbow bed. Gay was my destiny!"

"Maybe the bartender put a _little_ too much rum into your drink after all," Elsa chuckles, acting to pull my colada away from me.

Pulling it back to me, I stick my tongue out before beginning to play with the umbrella.

"Seriously though," I begin, my tone no longer as chipper, "I knew since freshman year of high school. Everyone was always talking about which boys were cute, you know? And I just remember thinking no one struck my fancy. I thought I was weird since _all_ my friends were literally obsessed with boys and dating, but then…we got a new teacher half way through the year, and…well, I fell hard. Just…not in the most conventional of ways."

I can see Elsa trying to hide her grin behind her the lip of her cup. "You knew you were gay because you had a crush on a teacher?"

"I was fourteen!" Now I'm the one flushed a brilliant red. "And if you had seen her, you would have been head over heels as well!"

Elsa simply shakes her head, but her smile remains. "How'd your friends and parents take it?"

I shrug. "I figured out who my real friends were that year," I say easily. "A few deserted me in disgust, but the ones worth keeping in the first place stood by me. My parents were surprisingly welcoming. Louisville's pretty liberal of a city anyway, depending on where you look, so I never faced much hate outright. There was a bit, yeah. I'd look at a girl that ended up being straight and fixed with a horrified glare or get yelled obscene things at if I was seen holding hands with a girl I was with, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

"Did you ever have…anyone special?" Elsa asks then, and I can tell she's ashamed to ask by the way she ducks her head.

Gently nudging her leg with mine, I get her to look at me before I answer. She does so uncertainly.

"Never," I tell her with honest conviction. "I mean, there were a fair share of mutual crushes, but nothing ever clicked with anyone." Leaning across the table quickly, I steal a kiss from her lips. "No one but you."

Her face lights up a glaring red then, and I'm just giddy knowing I'm probably the only one who can garner that kind of reaction from her.

"Y-You're my first too, Anna," she tells me in a mumble so low I almost miss it over the music.

My smile grows. "Yeah?"

"I never really…paid much attention to my orientation. All throughout middle and high school, I never cared about getting in a relationship. Sure, I found some guys in my class cute, but it ended at thinking they were aesthetically pleasing. Girls were never even on the radar until a couple years before the accident. Everyone I knew was in a committed relationship and I just started to feel weird, you know?

"Like you I…I thought something was wrong with me. Why wasn't I in one? Why hadn't I _ever_ been in one? Why didn't I _want_ to be in one? I thought, maybe boys weren't my thing, and as weird as that felt at the time, I rolled with it." She stops briefly to look at the club around us and smiles. "I heard about this place and how it was a low-key gay bar. Not that I was ashamed about coming here, really! Just… I couldn't help but feel weird. Regardless, I came here and shuffled my way to the bar, almost _praying_ a girl wouldn't come up to me because I wouldn't know how to handle it. Now, looking back, I think I was scared because I really _did_ want someone to talk to me. To flirt with me.

"I couldn't drink then, but I was still hoping something would give me a bit of liquid courage, but nothing. Yeah, I could admit that I found some girls attractive, and after I made this a bi-weekly stop, some even become cute. But like with the boys in high school, it was all about aesthetics."

She swirls her straw around in her drink as she finishes before fixing me with another shy look.

"Until you."

My heart clenches and I'm sure my blush matches hers by now.

"You just awoke this whole other side of me, Anna," she explains, with such vigor and even a hint of excitement I'm reminded of a kid trying to keep calm the night before Christmas. "I had never felt this way about _anyone_ before I met you. But you just made it so easy. I didn't even realize what we had was a relationship like all my friends had in high school until Thanksgiving night atop that hill. And then when you kissed me… This is fucking embarrassing, but that was my first kiss _ever_, Anna."

"It was?" I manage to utter.

Biting her lip, Elsa nods. "I never thought I'd kiss someone, or that I'd even ever want to, let alone that I would _love_ it so much, but… You made it so." Now beaming, she reaches across the table to take my hand and clutch it hard, and I can almost feel her love flowing from her. "I never thought I'd find love, but I'm happy I did."

Grasping her hand back, I quickly wipe a tear away before downing the rest of my drink and jumping from the booth so I'm standing before her. I'm sure my smile is radiant as I look down at her.

"I'm happy you did too, Elsa," I tell her before pulling her up and into my arms. My eyes become hooded as I lean in close to her lips, yet refrain from letting them touch hers. "Now how about you show me with a dance?"

I see her smile back with a seductive gleam before _she's _pulling _me_ onto the dance floor. The music is something upbeat and wild at first so we simply jump in with everyone else with some silly jumping moves, every now and then bumping up against each other or someone else, even though our eyes never stray from the others'.

Soon, however, the music calms to something much more manageable—yet still club-y—and Elsa and I move together, making it obvious we're here together and don't want anyone trying to butt in. For a few minutes, all Elsa does is gently hold my hips as I dance on my own, and again I can literally feel the affection and adoration flowing from Elsa's hands—or, well, _hand_, but you get it—and into me. It's uplifting, it's amazing, it's magical.

And it's perfect.

After a while though, I attempt to shake things up and guide her hands up my body to rest around my neck—paying special attention to the way Elsa fights off a blush as her hands drag past my breasts. Biting her lip once more, she glances away briefly before focusing back on me.

"You look so…s-sexy when you dance," she whispers.

Usually, I'd try and come up with something that'd have Elsa's spirit exiting her body should we be in an anime in response, but this time I simply let myself be floored by her praise.

And also because I never thought I'd hear Elsa use the word "sexy" _ever_. Nor did I ever think someone would think of _me_ as it.

Guess Elsa's LIT is finally kicking in.

"I know you said you couldn't dance," I finally speak up after a bit of us swaying to the beat of the next song, "but you're not even going to give me a little special look?" Then, leaning up to kiss her ear, I croon, "I bet you'd look sexy, too."

Elsa shivers—whether from my words or my closeness, I don't know—before she pulls me back slightly.

"I-I don't know," she stammers. "I've really never tried."

"Not even when you knew you were home alone and were jamming out to your favorite song?"

Elsa shakes her head in the negative before smirking. "I was always worried someone would still catch me. Like I happened to do to a certain someone no too long ago."

Rolling my eyes, I smack the back of her head lightly, getting a chuckle from her in return. "To my credit, I _knew_ I wasn't home alone, thank you; nor was I even at _my_ house."

"And yet you still did it," Elsa chastises with a grin. "That's pretty stupid, if you ask me."

I scoff and look away from her, though I can't make myself frown or look angry in this moment worth a damn. "Excuse you, that was brave!"

"It was sexy too."

Gawking and looking back to her, I flounder for words. "Am I just all sex appeal tonight or something?"

Grin never wavering in the slightest, Elsa shrugs, pulling me back closer to her.

"Maybe you always were, and I'm just now finding I can admit it out loud," she says.

"I'm bringing out a lot in you you're slowly figuring out," I bite back with a smile.

Kissing me swiftly on the lips, she responds, "I think I already mentioned that."

While I enjoy our flirtatious banter to no end, I did take Elsa out to a club mainly to see her dance, and I'll be damned to let us leave without getting even the little jive out of her—and simply swaying and jumping no longer count.

"I may need another drink for that," she tells me after I bring it up once again.

I shrug. "I'm down. I'll take the same—and still spiked!"

Elsa simply rolls her eyes before she's heading back to the bar and I'm returning to the booths, lucky once again to find the one we had just been sitting at still vacant. She remains loyal to her words, returning with another round of the same drinks, mine being spiked once more, as the first thing I taste is the sweet rum.

"Okay…now _I'm_ admitting maybe they went a bit overboard on this one," I say with a slight cough, not used to the taste.

Looking concerned for a moment, Elsa takes the drink away and sips it herself. From her frown, I know what she's going to say.

"That's definitely not 'virgin'—forget the spiking."

Snatching it from her I cautiously take a much smaller gulp this time. "I'll adjust."

"Anna…"

"It's okay, Elsa," I say calmly. "It's just one. Besides, you paid for it, right?"

"Just…" she sighs. "Don't make me have to carry your drunk ass home."

"Deal." I shoot her a thumbs up before averting my attention back to my drink.

Second round of drinks sufficiently finished, I'm looking expectantly to Elsa for several moments before she looks up and notices.

"Right now?" she asks, almost fearfully.

As if the higher powers are on my side and want to see this goddess on Earth in action, the perfect song starts playing.

So perfect, in fact, I immediately begin cracking up.

"_Oh don't you dare look back_

_Just keep your eyes on me_

_I said, 'You're holding back'_

_She said, 'Shut up and dance with me!'"_

"Come on, Elsa!" I cry, pulling her from the booth with me once more. "You can't _not_ dance to this!"

Elsa's laughing—albeit nervously—as I drag her to the dance floor, finding an empty spot for us.

"Look, no one's even paying attention," I say. "And half these people are hardly doing what I'd consider dancing, so just let it go and have fun!"

So I'm not just openly waiting for her to begin, I start off, twirling to the music and twisting my body without even really giving much thought to my actions. I see Elsa watch me for a moment before she, too, ever so slowly, lets herself go. I smile so hard my face hurts as I watch one grow similarly on her face.

Getting more and more into it, she closes her eyes, raises her hands in the air and fully succumbs to the music. I feel my heart leap to my throat. If Elsa thought I was sexy dancing, she has another thing coming. Surely I could never compare to this. To _her_.

Because, fuck, I've landed the sexiest girl on the planet.

_Deep in her eyes_

_I think I see the future_

_I realize this is my last chance_

_She took my arm_

_I don't know how it happened_

_We took the floor and she said…_

XxXxX

For the record, I don't know who started the kissing, or when we even started; all I know is by the time we got back to Elsa's, we were in the middle of an intense lip lock. And I swear to this day that Elsa had been trying her damndest to lift me up by the ass with one hand.

I mean, we had begun random make out sessions within the blink of an eye before, but this one was different. I couldn't really place why—aside from the fact that I'm pretty sure it started in public, which is saying something—until Elsa started pulling me to her bedroom, our lips still entangled feverishly. When she kicked the door closed behind us, pushing me up against it before moving to suck and bite at my neck, I _really_ had the idea of where this was going.

And, as thrilled as I was, I had to make certain Elsa wanted this. After all, while I no longer felt the effects of my drinks, Elsa had consumed more alcohol than me, and if we were going to do this, I didn't want any of our inhibitions lowered.

"Elsa," I gasp as she probably leaves a most impressive hickey on my neck. "W-What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she croons, licking up my neck to take my left ear between her teeth. A full-body shiver runs through me then.

"Do you feel okay?" I choke out next as Elsa's hands have now climbed beneath my shirt and are slowly inching their way to my breasts at a leisurely and erotic pace.

Keeping her hands where they are, she pulls back slightly to look at me, an adorable confused expression present on her face.

"Of course I feel fine," she tells me. "Why? Am I doing something wrong?"

When a look of anxiety and fear begins to cloud her eyes, I jump from the wall and try to extinguish any worries with a kiss of my own.

"No," I whisper, "you're not doing anything wrong. I just…" I glance at her and blush before looking away. "I just want to make sure you're fully aware of what we were doing and where it is most likely going to lead."

A blush of her owns begins to burn as she takes her lip back between her teeth. Still, her hands trail back down my sides, her nails ghosting against my skin enticingly, and I shudder once more.

"I-I know what I'm doing, Anna," she states. "While I might not be the most confident I'm doing it right, I'm… I'm hoping you'll let me continue."

I grin and kiss the tip of her nose. "Of course you may continue. I just…"

"Wanted to make sure I wasn't drunk?" she finishes with a coy smirk.

My blush deepens. "I was just going to say inebriated…"

This causes her to chuckle and she mirrors my action by kissing my nose as well. "You're very thoughtful, Anna, but I… I want this." Her hands are back under my shirt and she takes the next step by brushing her thumbs against my breasts. Taking my lips in another heated kiss, she sighs, "I want you."

Well, that's good enough for me.

I let any remaining doubts go as I return the kiss with vigor, prodding my tongue against her lips as my own hands move to the front of her and start to unbutton her blouse. Before either of us is really aware, Elsa's shirtless and on we're on her bed, me straddling her waist and Elsa writhing beneath me with every little kiss or touch.

Neither of us speak, rather, we let our lips and hands do all the communicating needed. Sure, there is the occasional gasp or groan as one of us does something the other really likes, but aside from that, the room is silent as Elsa and I take the next monumental step in our relationship.

And it feels so natural and right, I suddenly have the urge to cry.

Unclasping Elsa's bra, I toss it blindly behind me before I'm trailing kisses from her face, down her neck, through the valley of her breasts and down to her navel. Elsa lets out the most arousing whimpers and whines the entire time, which only further serve to spur me on.

"A-Anna!" she cries as I sensuously take a firm nipple into my mouth and begin to suckle, one hand coming to its twin to begin a soothing massage. Meanwhile, Elsa's hands are tangled in my hair, alternating between keeping me planted against her and pulling at my hair in the most stimulating way.

Still paying her voluptuous breasts copious amounts of attention, my free hand begins to travel south to circle the button of her jeans. Elsa bucks her hips and moans, begging me to continue and I can't keep the wide smile off my face from her quick allowance. She really wants this.

She really wants _me_.

Fuck, we're actually going to do this!

I have her pants cast aside to join the rest of wherever our clothing is going to end up before I pull back to admire this ethereal beauty before me. Everything in my body tightens pleasurably as I take her in. Her braid has come loose, her lips are swollen, one or two hickeys are on her neck and shoulder, breasts are heaving, and arms are keeping me from moving any further back.

When she realizes I still have yet to move, I watch her eyes come into focus a bit to observe me staring down at her with what I hope is a loving look, and not an awkward gawk.

"W-What?" she asks, looking to her left and right nervously.

When she begins to wrap her arms around herself—her signature move signaling her self-consciousness—I instantly pin her arms down.

"Don't," I husk. "You have no reason to be embarrassed, Elsa. You're beautiful."

A smile lights up her face as she utters out a soft, "Y-Yeah?"

"Certainly." Then, looking to her brace, I add, "Almost."

Curious, she watches my every move as my hand travels to what used to be the juncture of her right elbow, where I let my fingers taunt the black material there instead. Elsa immediately startles and tries to pull away, a hard thing to do when I'm sitting atop her.

"Anna, w-wait!" she cries. "Don't!"

"It's okay, Els," I try to soothe. "Don't be afraid."

As I begin to unstrap the brace, I see her watching with big, fearful eyes. Yet, she does nothing to stop me.

"B-But…" she stammers. "Why can't you just leave it on?"

"Because I want to worship all of you, Elsa," I state with conviction.

"B-But…" she tries again to no avail.

Smiling gently, I take the final step and slide the prosthetic off, revealing her scar, and leaving her more bare than should I have removed her underwear instead.

"I've seen you like this before," I tell her, hoping to comfort her while kissing her lips.

"Yeah, b-but not like this…"

"What's the difference?" I ask, canting my head slightly and leaning back to show I really am concerned and not simply casting her discomfort away to move on.

"I'm…" She looks away, and I see tears build in her eyes. Instantly my heart leaps to my throat and I'm afraid I've ruined everything, but what she says next has me laughing softly instead.

"I'm supposed to be beautiful…"

"You are beautiful," I reply, shaking my head slightly, smile lingering. I plant another kiss to her lips as I teasingly squeeze one of her breasts. "So beautiful."

"You're… Y-You're supposed to want me more than anything in this moment, a-and now you're seeing me for w-what I really am and I-I'm no longer what you should want."

"But you _are_ still what I want, Elsa," I say, letting my fingers dance down her right arm but moving back up before they reach the stump. "I thought you had learned that long ago."

Finally, I let my hand go to cup her stump, thumb caressing the scar there gently and Elsa shudders so violently I'm almost afraid I've hurt her.

"Did that hurt?" I ask.

She shakes her head, but the tears in her eyes still have me concerned.

"Then what's wrong?"

Her blush intensifies, yet she almost looks ashamed as she looks away and mumbles, "It felt good."

Chuckling quietly, I nuzzle her cheek with my nose. "Then what's the problem?" Figuring it out for myself, I let my thumb graze over the scar once again. "You're allowed to think it feels good. Just because it's a reminder of a dark part of your past, doesn't mean it doesn't deserve every bit of love the rest of you does."

Her laughter is wet and she quickly goes to wipe at her eyes. "How can you make this seem so simple? Like it's nothing?"

I smile sympathetically. "Because it should be simple, Elsa," I tell her. "I know that may be hard to completely understand, but…"

"Can I see yours?" she whispers when I trail off, looking up at me with a mixture of pleading, curiosity and affection.

Kissing her on the mouth again, I acquiesce with the quiet utterance of, "Okay."

I sit back, careful to keep my entire weight from being placed on Elsa, and lift my shirt over my head. Quickly discarding it, I flash her a sultry grin before removing my bra too. Elsa's left gaping for a moment before she's biting her lip again as her eyes roam across all I've revealed to her.

I've never really been ashamed of my body, but still… The way Elsa's looking at me in the moment, I feel completely unworthy.

"Y-You're beautiful too, Anna."

Flushing, I bite my own lip as I mutter a thanks.

Her eyes continue to drink in my breasts, and almost hesitantly, she reaches up to cup one. I'm immediately shivering from her touch and let my eyes slide shut in bliss as she strokes her thumb across my nipple and I'm moaning this time because now there's no clothing in the way and, fuck, that feels amazing.

Still, when I open my eyes next, I see Elsa has extended her right arm as if to touch my other breast but of course her hand isn't there and so instead she's glaring at it, but it mostly comes off as a sad sense of longing rather than anger. Leaning forward, I plant a kiss on the scar to which Elsa instantly gasps. I'm sure she never thought someone would ever accept her enough to be so intimate with the most damaged part of her.

"You don't need two hands to love me, Elsa," I breathe. "You're doing just fine."

She nods, but I know she's still unsure, yet she lets it pass and instead lowers her gaze from my eyes and to my abdomen. I feel my stomach clench in anticipation, ready and excited to get a dose of my own medicine.

Elsa reaches out and caresses a thumb across my own scar and I mimic her by shivering from the feeling. It really is amazing—even cathartic in a way—to expose yourself this much and so readily to a person; to have that person not grimace or treat you any differently for your past or wounds.

Sometimes I'm still surprised that my scar is still so visible. You would think after ten years it would be almost non-existent; but no, instead it's still fairly prominent, and I probably have my fair skin and freckles to thank for that. Still, scars are supposed to be sexy, right? And if it gets Elsa to feel any more comfortable about herself and more in the mood, well then that's even better.

"Can I kiss it?" she asks in an innocent tone, now tracing a circle around it lightly.

I laugh. Of course she can kiss it. She can kiss any part of me she wants without me stopping her.

"You can kiss whatever you want," I voice aloud with a wink.

She blushes at the insinuation before leaning up and pressing her lips to the damaged skin in the gentlest, most delicate of kisses. I hum pleasantly before she lays back down, staring up at me with another look of unconditional love that I fear I could never match in intensity.

So, I resolve to instead _show_ her.

I kiss her once again, whisper another "I love you," against her lips and then slowly, sensuously begin to slide down the length of her body. I manage to climb out of my pants along the way as they're hindering my movement and I don't want anything in the way as I prepare to make love to Elsa.

Because that's what this is. Not sex, not a dismissive fuck; this is making love; worshipping Elsa for all she's worth; making her feel higher than God himself; all through the magic and power of the devotion I have to this woman.

Tugging her underwear down, I plant searing kisses to the inside of each of her thighs to which Elsa's gasps a breathy moan. All her clothing successfully fully discarded, I look up to her face from my position between her legs, thumbs now tracing gentle circles against her hips. Her eyes waver with arousal, excitement and a bit of anxiety, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit nervous as well.

Still, I grin and whisper, "You okay?"

Elsa shifts a bit but nods and then I'm uttering another "I love you" before I'm overwhelmed by _Elsa_ and fuck me if it's not everything I dreamed it'd be.

Elsa's alternating between moaning and whimpering as I test all kind of ways to pleasure her, my stomach churning in its own arousal when I find things that especially turn her on and store those away for later. I take my sweet time with her, able to work her to her crest before bringing her gently back down. Soon, my stomach flips again when I have Elsa begging.

"A-Anna," she's whimpering. "Please. God, _please_!"

I'd kept from penetrating her to this point because that makes it, you know, like, _real_ and I think part of me was afraid if I did so, this would end up being some cruel dream and not reality. Like, Elsa and I would still be sitting on her couch after our day. We wouldn't have gone to the club, and we most certainly would not be in the position we are in now.

Still, Elsa's tugging at my hair like she has both her hands, and the small bit of pain is turning me on so much along with her continuous utterances of my name, that, kissing her thigh one last time, I take the final plunge and slide one finger slowly into her.

"_Anna_!" she screams. "Fuck, _yes_!"

I start a steady pace as I add one more finger and move up the length of her body enough to plant more kisses across her neck and down her body, paying her nipples extra attention as I pass back by them, and by the time my tongue retreats from her navel, she's ready to come undone.

Now grinning devilishly, I plant a swift kiss to her glistening pearl in her sweetest spot before I have my thumb firmly pressing down on it as I curl my fingers up inside her.

That's the final straw and Elsa hits her peak, back arching, toes curling, and hand tangling once more in my hair as she lets out the loudest—yet most erotic, thus far—scream I've ever heard her expel. My own core tightens at the realization that she's screaming because of me.

I let my handiwork continue as she lets the aftershocks of her release tremor throughout her, wanting to prolong her pleasure as long as possible. Soon, she stills with one last exhaled groan, and I'm withdrawing my fingers and climbing back up to lay beside her.

Propping myself up on one arm, I wait for her to open her eyes. When she does, they're unfocused, yet alive with bliss. Her gaze meets mine.

"Hi," I say with a toothy grin and a wink.

Tears spring unbidden to her eyes as she whispers back, "Hi."

She turns on her side to face me and a tear streaks down her cheek in the process. Reaching to wipe it away, I ask, "Are you okay?"

A smile breaks across her face as she nods. "Y-Yeah."

"You sure?" I prod gently as I kiss her forehead.

She simply nods once more and hums and soon I'm back on top of her, planting another round of kisses to every place I can without moving.

"You're okay," I confirm with a kiss to her temple.

"You're beautiful." A kiss to her nose.

"You're amazing." A kiss to her lips.

Leaning back, I make sure she's watching as I bring her right arm up and plant a final, sensual kiss to her scar.

"You're _perfect_."

More tears begin to stream from Elsa's eyes, but the way she has me screaming similarly to her fifteen minutes later, my throat burning from the screech of her name that tears from within me, I know she's anything but upset.

Far from upset, if her bringing me to another climax not two minutes later says anything.


	27. Chapter 26: Prelude

**Meh. Short chapter for the long wait, but I guess we should all be kinda used to that by now, huh? -_-  
><strong>

**Anyway, I'm thinking next chapter starts the final arc of Sucker Punch. Going back and rereading it and looking at what I have planned, I'm starting to see I kinda unintentionally wrote this in three arcs, or acts. The first one being Anna getting Elsa to open up and reveal her secret to her (and them falling for each other), the second getting Elsa to go public (and them admitting their love), and the third, where we are now, Elsa getting her prosthetic (so what's in store for them in the love department here, hm? ;) ). So, *****gasp* Sucker Punch is coming to a close! Although with my update "schedule" it'll probably be another half-year…**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six: Prelude<strong>

I awake the next morning to a feeling of absolute bliss. There's a pleasant ache between my legs, which soon has me moaning as I relive the events of last night in my mind with a shiver, and the wonderful aroma of chocolate fills the air.

Wait, I think groggily, _chocolate_?

Opening bleary eyes, I notice Elsa is missing from beside me, her spot in her bed still warm, however, proving she hasn't been up long. A moment later, a clatter from the kitchen and a string of expletives following has me grinning.

"Elsa?" I call out, getting out of bed and pulling on my underwear—and a shirt at the last minute as an afterthought.

"Fuck… Out here, Anna!" I hear her shout back.

Following my nose, I get to the kitchen to see Elsa standing in front of the stove, her arms spread out to keep me from seeing what's cooking, and a mix of guilt, frustration and glee on her face. That NYU shirt of hers has some kind of food on it, and there seems to be flour on her face. I giggle.

"Trouble?"

Elsa shoots me an indignant look. "Shut up, you," she grumbles, though with a grin of her own. "I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed."

I can't help but roll my eyes as I cross my arms playfully. "I thought we were finished doting on me?"

Elsa rolls her eyes back at me before turning back to the stove and whatever she's making—or trying to, anyway.

"Well, after last night, I figured you deserved it again," she mumbles shyly, her bare foot bumping the hardwood floor beneath us.

My cheeks immediately flush and my body heats up at the memories that come flashing through once more. "You liked it?" I ask softly, now shy myself.

She spins around, looking like I just asked the stupidest question on the planet—which I'm guessing I did, actually; since, you know, last night _happened_.

"Of course I liked it!" she cries with a laugh. "Anna, that was probably the best night of my life! I've never felt such…ecstasy before."

"You mean at the club or…after?" I can't look at her.

"Oh, _now_ you're going to get flustered?" When I finally manage to look up again, she's sauntering toward me with that flirtatious strut I love and hate at the same time—'cause damn, really, who's this freaking hot this early in the morning? Elsa, apparently. "You didn't seem all too embarrassed last night with my head between your legs."

I squeeze my legs shut instinctively as another shiver wracks my body. "E-Elsa…"

She just smirks so devilishly and trails a hand down my cheek enticingly. "Or when I had you _screaming_ my name to the heavens while I-."

Fuck, I can't take this.

"E-Elsa!" I exclaim, pushing her away with a laugh. "Cut it out, will you?"

She chuckles as well, suddenly overcome with a blush like she just realized how lewd she was being. "Was that too over the top?"

"No!" I refute instantly. "Just… I just woke up and you're…getting me raring to go already."

Elsa's blush increases tenfold then, as if she didn't realize how worked up her words could really get me. We spend the next couple moments in an awkward silence, both glancing at each other and then looking away upon getting caught.

You know, cutesy, stupid high school stuff we've long since passed.

"Regarding your earlier question," Elsa speaks up after a while, "and in all seriousness, I meant all of last night. The club and the…the sex."

"So… No regrets?" I ask, because, fuck, I need to know _for certain_ I didn't pressure Elsa into anything she wasn't ready for. For once…

"No regrets," she echoes in affirmation, radiant smile on her lips.

Beaming, I all but tackle her in a hug, crashing my lips to hers in a feverish kiss. Breaking apart far too soon for either of us, yet wanting to address that amazing smell which has been drifting among us, I peer over her shoulder.

"So, what are you making?"

Her face falls slightly as she, too, looks behind her, staring down at her "work" with a sad, yet amused smile.

"They're supposed to be chocolate chip pancakes," she sighs.

"How'd you manage to get one to look like the continent of Africa?" I ask with a chuckle and playful nudge to her side.

She swats at me before moving to place the…oddly misshapen…pancakes on a warm plate.

"Making pancakes is a lot harder than you may think with just one hand," she explains. "Didn't really think of that before I started."

Oh.

And just like that, my stomach goes from being in my throat from flirtatious banter, to down in my gut with dread. Elsa sees my disheartened expression, however, and quickly works to rectify the situation.

"Anna, please don't feel bad," she tells me. "I'm not upset! Maybe a bit, because damn it, flipping those bastards was no small job, but I'm sure they still taste good!" Quickly grabbing one, she takes a bite, nodding in approval. "If you don't judge me on presentation, I think I did a pretty good job!"

I look between Elsa, her right arm in its brace, and the plate of pancakes with a somber look. If Elsa isn't acting like this is a problem, then it really shouldn't be. I mean, the fact that she was able to _make_ breakfast, _wanted_ to, and _didn't care _upon realizing she was at a disadvantage was a good thing, right? It meant her arm was no longer on the forefront of her mind; she was back to thinking she could do anything and everything she could and in the same capacity before the accident.

So then why did it still leave a bitter taste in my mouth? Was I perhaps upset that Elsa seemed to be improving? That sounds shallow and selfish as hell, but could that be it? Was I afraid she'd cast me aside as soon as she regained that confidence she had lost? The more rational, overwhelming part of me screamed no, and demeaned me for even thinking such a thought. Yet, a small part of me really felt that. Was I that insecure that I thought Elsa's love wasn't real enough and was just some…side effect from all the drama we had been through lately? I knew Elsa loved me; I mean, hell, look at last night! Would that have happened if her love was really misplaced or misguided?

"Anna?"

I look up to meet her gaze, finding soft oceans of blue wavering back at me. Another, even worse thought comes to me then.

Do I not want Elsa to heal?

Was that the real reason why I was so hooked on her? Was she just some project for me to fix? Someone who needed someone to coddle them in their darkest of times? Again, the glaring answer was no, as even before I knew of Elsa's secret, I was hooked to her like a puppy to its mother. Then again, "broken Elsa" was the only Elsa I knew; it was the Elsa I fell in love with. Would that love dwindle or fade as Elsa got better?

_God fucking damnit, listen to you!_ my mind screeches at me. _You're looking at this as if Elsa's something that needed fixing, or that you're just some drug she got addicted to while hurt! That's not what's going on here, you dolt! She _loves_ you; you _love_ her! None of this is about her injury! It may be the force that brought you two together, but it's not what's keeping you together now. Deep down, you know that. And she does too. Now, woman up, and start eating those amazing-smelling, drool-worthy pancakes, idiot!_

And just like that, with a blink, I smile at Elsa, take the plate of pancakes in one hand and her arm in the other, and start dragging her to the kitchen island, where a couple barstools sit.

"I got dibs on the Africa pancake!" I exclaim jovially.

XxXxX

Christmas was quickly upon us. The weekend before, my parents called, saying they were taking a trip up to the city to spend the holidays with me since I had come down for Thanksgiving. I had no qualms with that, and even requested they stay in my apartment during their stay to save money on a hotel room. After asking Elsa if it'd be okay for me to stay with her while my parents were visiting—to which she eagerly responded yes, of course—everything was set.

They arrived on the 20th, and Elsa and I met them at the airport. After that, the four of us practically didn't separate unless we were sleeping. Which was fine, believe me; I mean, I love my parents, and even though I had just seen them less than a month ago, it had seemed longer. The only worry on my mind was that Elsa would feel misplaced. When they had called, mom had basically all but demanded Elsa spend as much time as she possibly could with us during the holidays since she was now aware Elsa had no family of her own to be with.

While a very considerate offer, and one I knew Elsa would take up in an instant, I couldn't help but fret it would make her uncomfortable. I mean, this was only the second Christmas for Elsa without her parents, and I'm sure last year's was hell, her parents having just passed away five months prior. I didn't even want to imagine how Elsa spent the holidays last year.

So yeah, Elsa's second Christmas without her family, and now we were expecting her to have one with someone else's family like that? Of course, I knew my mom was only asking out of the goodness of her heart, and I knew Elsa knew that as well. Still, that didn't mean it sat well with me.

Regardless, Elsa agreed willingly—after reassuring me close to twenty times that it really was _okay_ and wasn't going to be as painful as I was expecting it to be.

Still, memories of previous Christmases from happier times did plague her at night now and then, but I was always right there next to her to chase any demons away and make new, happy memories with.

Christmas Eve night, Elsa treated my parents and us to a showing of _A Christmas Carol_ at Carnegie Hall, explaining it was her gift to them for being so welcoming towards her and making her truly feel she had another mother and father. Of course, my mom was reduced to a blubbering mess at that confession, and after nearly suffocating Elsa in a hug—which only ended once my dad and I literally _pulled her away_—dad gave her a grateful hug as well.

Christmas Day wasn't much different from Thanksgiving night. My mom turned my kitchen into a grade-A restaurant overnight and invited Elsa and me over for the most drool-worthy dinner I had ever seen her make. After our traditional Kentucky Christmas dinner of country ham and almost every side you could think of, plus chocolate cheesecake for dessert—seriously, it's a shock my family and I aren't morbidly obese—it was time to pass around presents.

After Elsa gifted my parents the tickets to the show the previous night, mom would have none of her trying to get them anything else, so Elsa politely refrained from doing so, instead choosing to complain to me on the side that she still felt like she should have gotten them _something_ else, no matter how small or inexpensive. I placated her by saying that the tickets meant more to them than she thought, seeing as _A Christmas Carol_ is my parent's favorite holiday play, of which they hadn't been able to see the past two years as the Arts program in Louisville hadn't put it on due to money reasons.

My parents gave me a brand new pair of boxing gloves in a shiny, ruby red; something I was in great need of, seeing as my old pair I had had since freshman year of high school. Elsa gifted me with an intricate pair of ice blue ice skates, along with a confident smirk that by the end of the winter season, I'd be a pro on the ice.

I had never been good at giving gifts and had a hell of a time trying to decide the best gift for Elsa, but I eventually settled on a small charm bracelet from none other than Tiffany's. Of course, I also gave her multiple bonus gifts that night once my parents were gone and we found ourselves between the sheets—if you catch my drift.

I felt bad that my parent's gifts seemed lackluster compared to my girlfriend's, but they reassured me I had seventeen other Christmases with them that I hadn't had with Elsa. They were pretty satisfied with anything I gave them by now. That made me feel much better as I watched mom unwrap a collection of four books and dad a nice watch—which did actually cost a decent amount, thank you very much.

When it came time for my parents to give Elsa her gift, they produced a long envelope from mom's purse. Elsa and I exchanged curious glances with the other as Elsa turned it over to open it. As she continued to do so, I glanced to my parents for any kind of hint. I wasn't given much of one, as my dad only winked, my mom too engrossed on Elsa.

With a sharp gasp, I immediately looked back to Elsa to see her holding a check in her hand. When she showed me the amount—a hefty _five grand_—I balked as well.

"I-I can't accept this, Mr and Mrs Summers," Elsa had choked out, not daring to believe the figures on the paper before her.

My parents wouldn't have any of it, of course. They claimed that despite how short a period they had known Elsa, they already felt as if she were a second daughter to them, and were willing to help her reach her goals in any way possible. They, like much of the nation, had watched Elsa's reveal on TV that night, and ever since then had agreed they would chip in any way to help Elsa get that prosthetic.

My parents weren't wealthy people by any means. Sure, we weren't poor, as I had lived a very comfortable life thus far, never really going without something I wanted. I had to work my way through college, sure, and scholarships and grants helped, but my parents were also able to chip in there as well. Now, I had little to no debt thanks to them.

Still, writing out a check for five thousand dollars to a girl they had only met a month ago, despite being their daughter's girlfriend, was nothing short of the most generous act in the world. Elsa had a good cry in front of all of us, and I think it's safe to say we all came even closer together that Christmas night.

Elsa and I showed my parents around more of the city later that week, taking them to museums and all that jazz, to which they repaid us to treating us to dinners out at acclaimed restaurants. By the 28th, however, they were on a plane back to Louisville, leaving Elsa and I to our own devices for New Year's.

"This past week has been amazing, Anna," Elsa purrs in my ear New Year's Eve as we sit cuddled on her couch to watch the ball drop, a bottle of champagne open on the table before us.

"It has, hasn't it?" I respond with a wistful sigh, nuzzling closer to my favorite blonde.

Elsa and I had agreed to spend New Year's Eve watching the ball drop _on TV_ versus actually being there after Elsa had claimed only tourists are crazy enough to wait for hours in the cold in Times Square. Apparently, locals avoid Times Square like the plague on this night. After learning that being there in person meant arriving at ten in the morning to get a decent spot and then _not leaving_ until well after midnight—seriously, you can't even go to the restroom without losing your spot, not to mention restaurants and stores around there don't let people in unless you're an actual customer—I decided maybe just watching it on TV was the best option after all.

I mean, we were warm, we—especially me—had drinks, and we were in the privacy of Elsa's apartment, not being pushed and crowded down on the cold streets. I don't know what I had ever been thinking wanting to go to Times Square in the first place.

"I think tomorrow I'm going to go to Mt Sinai and register for the trial," Elsa speaks up after another moment of comfortable silence.

When I crane my neck to look at her, I see her twisting her champagne flute in her hands nervously. Shifting to face her, I reach a hand to her cheek and make her look at me.

"Yeah?" I prod gently. "You want me to come with?"

Glancing away from me and chewing on her lip briefly, Elsa nods. Smiling, I kiss her mouth.

"Then it's a plan," I whisper.

"New Year's Resolution, right?" she asks with a small laugh.

I nod and grin. "New Year's Resolution."

And if anyone could keep to one this big, I knew it was Elsa. We had one hell of a year ahead of us, but I knew we'd be able to handle anything thrown our way.

The biggest reason being that we knew we would be doing it together.


	28. Chapter 27: Round Four

**All I have to say this time is a thanks to all my readers, favorites, followers, and reviewers. Keep the love coming! :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Seven: Round Four<strong>

It's times like these when I really, truly realize just how much larger a city New York is compared to Louisville.

I mean, Mt Sinai is freaking _huge_! Like, think of the difference in size between Alaska and Rhode Island; Alaska is Mt Sinai and Rhode Island is Norton Suburban in Louisville.

Yeah, it's really that much bigger.

And I always thought NS was confounding with its size.

When we finally make it to the level and wing devoted to student research—reconstructive surgery through robotics, in our particular case—Elsa comes to a halt outside two double doors.

"Els?" I pipe up once she doesn't move after a few seconds. "I'm right here," I add; hoping my words give her some solace despite how what's waiting for her on the other side of these doors is greater than any words could console.

I watch closely as Elsa takes in a deep, heavy breath, holds it a few seconds, and releases slowly. Standing behind her, I can only imagine the hardened glint that glimmers in her eyes as she squares her shoulders and moves to open the door, an air of commanding authority protecting her like some kind of aura.

Quite a difference from the petrified child I encountered at the gym late one night many, many months ago. When Elsa doesn't even spare me a glance before pushing open the doors, striding right into the wing as if she owns it, I know for certain that for maybe the first time since I met her, Elsa truly was ready to take the next step. While my being here may very well be making a difference, there had been no real pressure from me to get her to leave the apartment this morning or get her through these doors. Now, as long as she keeps this air of authority throughout the entire study, we should be good to go.

There's a young black woman sitting behind the service counter as Elsa and I approach, and instantly upon noticing us, she looks up with a smile.

"Hey there!" she greets. "How many I help you?"

I glance to Elsa as she steps forward, and still unable to see her face, I can only imagine the small, shy smile she always dons in these types of situations.

"I'm…"

"Elsa Arendelle, right?" the woman finishes with a grin. "Girl, I've been following you since day one, I know who you are."

Elsa chuckles abashedly, and I roll my eyes at her modesty, almost certain now there is a blush inching its way across her cheeks.

"Seriously, though," the woman adds, "how can I help?"

"I'm… Well, if you say you've been following since the beginning, I'm sure you're aware then about my accident?" Elsa explains, somehow managing to end with a question.

The woman's face immediately falls as she nods. "Yeah. I'm truly sorry about that; all of it."

I see Elsa's left hand tremble briefly before she closes it into a fist and she looks to the floor.

"Th-Thanks," she mumbles. A moment of silence passes before she looks back up. "I'd…like to join the study you all are working on. The one with…robotic prosthetics?"

The woman's eyes light up immediately and she nods excitedly. "No problem!" she exclaims. "One sec!"

As she picks up the phone and begins speaking into it almost immediately, Elsa turns to look over her shoulder at me. I shoot her a corny grin and give her a thumbs up, causing her to break into a small smile of her own. Then, she holds her left hand out towards me, beckoning me closer. I take it firmly, coming up to stand next to her; right where I belong.

"The three students in charge of the study are coming down to meet you," the woman informs us after hanging up. "They'll do a small preliminary exam before informing you more about the study."

Elsa thanks her again and I give my own form of thanks through a nod. In no time, three boys enter through another pair of double doors. One is tall, dark and muscular—literally, his muscles are almost bulging through the dress shirt he's wearing—and the other two look like they could be brothers. One is almost as tall as Mr Muscles, while one barely looks thirteen. Both have dark hair, and all three of them are smiling warmly as they approach us.

"Elsa Arendelle," the taller sibling greets, "I can't begin to explain how honored I am to have you as a part of our study."

"We had to cut Terk off from her ramble on the phone," the muscular boy adds in.

"Hey!" the woman, Terk, apparently, shouts from her spot behind the desk.

The tanned boy just shrugs before extending a hand out to Elsa. "The name's Tarzan," he introduces. "Though, I don't mind if you just call me Zan. I'm one of the students in charge of this study."

After Elsa shakes his hand, the older sibling speaks up again. "Tadashi," he states, "the other half of this study's lead. And this," he ruffles the shorter kid's hair, much to his detest, "is Hiro, my younger brother."

"I can introduce myself, you know," Hiro grumbles, working to fix his hair before smiling up at Elsa. "I'm the inventor of all the robotics we use here. Tadashi and Tarzan may have designed the study, but without me, it would have been impossible to get it working."

I can't keep in my laughter as Tadashi rolls his eyes. "Yeah, we also wouldn't have any modesty if it wasn't for him," he quips.

Elsa lets a small smile form again, but I know she's growing increasingly anxious with all the new people she's meeting. Still, I'm proud of her when she continues to power through.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," she says. "This is my girlfriend, Anna." She pulls me forward and I wave heartily. "I asked her to tag along; I hope that's okay."

Tadashi simply shakes his head, the kind smile still on his face. "Not a problem at all. I understand this can be intimidating, and it's always good to keep those you love close."

Hoping to lighten the mood, I nudge Elsa's side. "See?" I pipe up. "Told you there's no getting rid of me."

The three boys chuckle as Elsa blushes and quickly shoves me back. They invite us back with them at that point, and as Elsa and I follow, Tarzan begins to explain the study in detail.

"I don't know how much you've read," he starts, "but this entire study was designed and is run by grad students. Aside from Hiro—who's basically a kid genius and has outside qualifications letting him be a part of this—all of us have a Master's degree in medicine, biology, chemistry, or robotics. Tadashi specializes in the biology and robotics part of it with Hiro's help, and I lead the medicine part."

"Is there any psychiatric aspect to this?" Elsa questions as the five of us walk into a small examination room—well, more like Hiro waits outside, Tadashi lingers in the doorway, and Tarzan accompanies us completely inside. "My…th-therapist recommended I do some kind of group therapy before actually going through with a study. He also mentioned most programs like this have their own researchers or doctors doing the therapy."

Tarzan nods in affirmation. "We do. My girlfriend actually leads it. After we do the preliminary exam to make sure this study is a good fit for you, we'll have you join the therapy group. It consists of all our study participants and is mandatory you stay in the group throughout the entire study."

"The professors working with us on this said we had to have it or they wouldn't let us even take the first step to making this study real," Tadashi adds.

"So there is a…real doctor here?" Elsa asks, hesitating before almost mumbling the word 'real.' "No offense," she adds in a whisper and with a shy smile.

Tarzan chuckles. "No offense taken," he responds. "All student research has to have approval by and be headed by a professor. We actually have two: One for the science part of it, and one for the psychology part of it. Dr Callaghan heads the science division, and Dr Porter the psychology."

"You'll be meeting both today, don't worry," Tadashi cuts in again. "In fact," he glances at his phone, "why don't you get her started, Tarzan, and I'll go fetch the professors? They should just be finishing lunch. Hiro, you head back to the lab."

"It was awesome to meet you, Elsa!" Hiro exclaims as he pokes his head in the room. "You'll love what I come up with, I'm sure!"

"Yeah, yeah, bro," Tadashi chuckles, pushing Hiro out. "Save the bragging for later."

The two can still be heard bickering as they retreat back down the hallway. Tarzan just sighs and shakes his head at their fading voices, though his smile never wavers.

"I be those two are interesting to work with," I say—'cause, damn it, I'm not used to being quiet for this long and find myself needing to say something, as selfish as that may be.

"Oh, you have no idea," Tarzan replies with a huff this time. "Though I can't imagine it being any other way, now." Sitting down on a stool, he motions for Elsa to sit on the examination table. "Ready to begin?"

I see Elsa gulp, but a quick glance at me and being rewarded with a soft smile in turn hardens her resolve once more, and she nods. She sits down stiffly, but when I sidle up next to her and take her hand again, she visibly relaxes.

Tarzan goes through the typical routine of any doctor's office: temperature, height and weight, blood pressure, breath sounds and the like, all the while making note of everything on a tablet. Once all of Elsa's medical history is taken and recorded, he stands to leave the room, saying he'll send the professors and Tadashi in next. After he leaves, I take his place on the stool, rolling up in front of Elsa.

"You doing okay?" I ask, noticing her looking down at her lap.

She nods but doesn't say anything, so I take her hand in mine before lifting her chin up so she's looking at me. I don't fail to notice the fear still lingering in the back of her eyes, and I smile sympathetically.

"Do you want to go home?" I try next. "I'm sure they'll understand doing this in small increments. They all seem to be fans of you, or at least respect you, I'm sure they'd be willing to help you in any way possible."

She shakes her head as she softly replies, "I need to see this through." Her gaze flickers away from me momentarily before refocusing. "I'm not used to meeting this many people at once, but I'd rather get it all out of the way at once than having it take longer."

"Okay," I acquiesce. "But if you ever get overwhelmed, be it today or down the road, you let me know, okay? We're doing this at your pace. You're volunteering your time here, so you get to call the shots."

She nods this time and grants me a small smile. "Okay," she breathes.

Mirroring her smile, I kiss her forehead. "I know I keep saying this, but I'm really proud of you."

"And I know I keep saying _this_, but I'm really glad I have you," she tells me.

"I love you."

Kissing my lips, she utters back, "I love you, too."

I rest my forehead back against hers, and we remain like that for the duration of our wait. The only sound that fills the room is the sound of our gentle breathing and beating of our steady hearts. It's a much-needed moment of peace amongst the chaos that surrounds us, and we know well enough to take these moments when they come.

All too soon, a knock sounds at the door and we break apart, looking up to see two older gentlemen in lab coats walk in this time, followed by Tadashi. One man has graying hair and a hard, yet kind face while the other is short and balding, the small tufts of his hair already a snow white.

"Good afternoon, Ms Arendelle," the gray-haired man speaks first. "I'm Dr Callaghan and this is Dr Porter." The white-haired man waves.

Elsa nods at each of them and mumbles, "Nice to meet you."

"I, personally, saw your statement on TV about your accident, but just to be sure, and to make sure Dr Porter and young Tadashi here are completely filled in, which prosthetic are you here for?"

"An…a-arm."

"May I see the arm without the brace?" Callaghan asks next.

Elsa immediately looks to me and I can see the fear flaring back up, quickly and easily overpowering the courage she had maintained thus far.

"It's okay, Els," I tell her confidently. "It's nothing they haven't seen before."

She nods, yet still doesn't move to take the brace off, rather she just stares at her right hand blankly. Shooting the doctors and Tadashi an apologetic look—to which I'm relieved to see them looking back with nothing but complete understanding—I place my hand on Elsa's right shoulder. She visibly flinches.

"It's okay," I repeat. "Do you want me to help?"

I'm actually a bit surprised when she nods yes, but I don't hesitate to begin to slowly peel back the black material keeping the prosthetic she has now in place. I keep my actions deliberate, giving her ample time to take over herself in she so wishes. Though with the glazed look that I'm met with upon looking back up in her eyes, I have a feeling she's not going to jump in.

"Els," I utter once the brace is removed and my fingers linger on the final Velcro strap, "you sure you don't want to do this?"

She just shakes her head so I undo the final strap and slide her arm out, leaving her bare, vulnerable and exposed. My hand immediately finds her left once more, squeezing it hard.

"I see," Callaghan mumbles, his eyes roaming up and down Elsa's right arm, as he steps closer before squatting down. Looking up to Elsa, he asks, "May I examine the scarred tissue?"

Elsa numbly nods, but I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't even hear his question. Still, Callaghan continues his examination and gingerly takes Elsa's arm in his hands, lifting it to get a better angle of her scar. He calls Tadashi over to take some notes or something, and the boy quickly taps away at his own tablet. When Callaghan releases Elsa's arm, she pulls her hand away from mine to cup her stump, her arms going to circle her waist in her defensive position. My hand moves to her shoulder instead.

"I believe you to be suitable for this study, Ms Arendelle," Callaghan states after looking back over Tadashi's notes. "The only problem I can see us running into is stimulating the nerve endings in your arm again. How long has it been since your accident?"

"About eighteen months," Elsa mutters, still refusing to look at anyone in the room, including me.

"I see," Callaghan repeats. "In that case, it may very well be a trial to link the nerves in your arm to the circuits in our design, but we will work very hard to ensure your success." Sensing Elsa's discomfort, he sighs and kneels before her—as I'm still sitting on his stool—gazing at her with a soft smile, as a father would do to his daughter. "I have to ask, Elsa, but are you truly sure you're ready to take this on?"

Elsa nods all too quickly, though she's begun to shake all over, and I'm acutely aware to how hard she's breathing.

"I have to be…" she whispers.

"You don't have to be anything," Callaghan assures her. "None of us are forcing this upon you."

"He's right, Els," I pipe up once more. "I know you want this, but if you're not ready-."

"But I _have_ to be ready!" she cries, startling us all with the volume of her voice and the mad glimmer in her eyes as she finally looks back up. Realizing she just yelled at us, she grabs my hand and looks up at me with such a pitiful expression, I'm immediately taken back to the night where she revealed her arm to me in the first place. "Anna…" She's whimpering now. "I-I just want all this to be over…"

I pull her into me in a tight hug, one hand cradling her head affectionately while the other remains locked in her one-handed grasp. I can hear her crying now, head buried in my shirt and wetting the fabric significantly. Craning my neck, I shoot Callaghan, Dr Porter and Tadashi apologetic smiles. Not too surprisingly, they all return one with sympathy and understanding.

"I'll leave you two with Dr Porter," Callaghan says more so to me now. "He can talk to you both about the therapy portion. We won't begin any physical part of the study until she's had several sessions, and we can even arrange individuals session with Dr Porter or the doctor she sees now; whichever she's comfortable with."

"Thank you," I tell him gratefully, managing one last smile before he departs from the room with Tadashi.

After the door closes, Dr Porter comes up next to Elsa on the opposite of her. He doesn't reach out to touch her, seeming to know a person's presence may be all she really needs right now.

"Elsa?" he begins in a quiet voice to keep from startling her. "It's just me and Anna now. How are you feeling?"

"Overwhelmed," she answers, her voice still barely a whisper.

"Anything else?"

"S-Scared."

Dr Porter actually clucks a laugh as he says, "I'd be surprised if you weren't." When Elsa pulls away from me enough to glance his way, he smiles. "Is that why you're upset?"

Elsa nods.

"Would you like to go home for the day?"

Elsa looks to me then, as if she needs my permission. I kiss her forehead before I reply, "It's your decision."

She spares Dr Porter another glance before she almost shamefully nods her head and utters and weak, "Please."

"There's no need to be ashamed, Elsa," he tells her. "Many of our participants are taking this study in small strides. We can't expect all of them to immediately jump into this and be able to swim." Dr Porter hands her a tissue before continuing. "When you decide to come back, would you be up to having a talk with me? We don't need to start you in group therapy until you feel absolutely ready for it. We can even have your current therapist come in if you want."

"I'll…" she looks to me, but I don't give her any inclination as to what she should say. "I'll think about it," she finishes.

Dr Porter nods and walks us back to the lobby where Terk still sits behind the desk. Elsa continues to head to the double doors that will take us back to the main hospital, but I turn back to Dr Porter.

"She'll be back," I reassure him. "She really wants this, honestly. It's just…hard for her."

"I understand completely," he assures me. "Anna, right?"

I nod and he grins. "Stay close to her. She's going to be relying on you a lot here and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Make sure she knows that, hm?"

I mirror his nod. "I will. I keep telling her she's not going to be able to get rid of me easily."

He laughs at that before we part and I catch up to Elsa. The trip home is silent and when we get back to Elsa's place, she immediately heads for the bedroom. I look to the clock and begin to chew my lip when I notice the time is only barely three in the afternoon. Lingering awkwardly in her living room, I hesitate before heading to the kitchen. A few minutes later, I'm following her to her bedroom, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in my hands.

Not too surprisingly, yet still making my heart ache, I find Elsa curled into a ball in the center of her bed. Placing the mugs on her nightstand, I climb up next to her, wrapping my arms and body around her in a protective cocoon.

"You did great today, you know?" I tell her gently, nuzzling my nose against the back of her neck. She sniffs, but remains silent, unmoving in my embrace. Sighing quietly, I give her a gentle squeeze. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

There's a subtle nod of her head and I plaster a smile on my face, trying not to feel too hurt by her immediate castoff of me. I know it's not personal; of course she'd need time to herself. I sit up and brush some hair behind her ear before leaning down to kiss her temple.

"There's hot chocolate on your nightstand if you want some," I tell her as I move off the bed. "I'll be in the living room if you need me."

Taking my own mug, I walk to the doorway before looking over my shoulder with a solemn look. Elsa still doesn't budge.

She doesn't come out of her room the rest of the night.


	29. Chapter 28: Fight Within

***pokes head around corner***** H-Hi, guys… Sorry it's been another month; you won't believe all the stuff that's happened in my life lately. Moving into my first apartment by myself, getting a new puppy, moving my parents down to Miami, Florida, and suddenly having to pack up my grandmother and also move her into an independent living facility also down in Florida has really left me little time to work. Then let us not forget I also work a full time job…**

**Yeah, month from hell. Anyway, the good news is I managed to outline the rest of the story at work the other night and I can proudly say that Sucker Punch should finally be concluded in six more chapters! Give or take a bit of adding or subtracting due to chapter length, but that's what I've planned out. So! Without further ado, what you've all been (hopefully still…) been waiting for…!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Eight: Fight Within<strong>

When I wake up the next morning, Elsa's gone, a quickly written note waiting for me on the coffee table instead. Hastily reaching for it as realization of Elsa's absence dawns on me, I nearly fall off the couch in doing so.

**'Anna,'** the note reads. '**I want to apologize for my behavior yesterday and in case anything I did or said offended you. I'm sorry I turned away your comfort and I'm sorry I locked myself in my room instead of coming to you. The hot chocolate you left was delicious however, despite not drinking it for another two hours. Thank you.**

** 'I apologize for not waking you this morning and **_**still**_** not coming to you, but I felt going for a run on my own would help clear my head. I know you would have preferred to come along, but I really want to start trying to be more independent—stronger. I know you don't mind me constantly relying on you, and for that I'm thankful, but I promise you I will start to do my best to fight my own battles. You're welcome to hang around until I return, but I understand if you want to give me a taste of my own medicine by leaving before I return. I love you. - Elsa.'**

The note is basically exactly what I was expecting, yet I'm still left wondering why Elsa insists on wanting to do this alone. I mean, I understand her wanting to be more independent—I _did_ read the letter after all, really—but in my opinion, she hadn't even been relying all that heavily on me before this. Maybe that's just me, and even if I _was_ smothering Elsa with support and help I wouldn't know because I love this girl so much, but still. If I'm not complaining about Elsa being so dependent, why does she constantly feel the need to push away from me? Is it strictly because Milo said so a few weeks back? Or is this all some internal pride Elsa has going on?

My stomach decides to grumble then, and any train of thought I had is lost. Typical.

Rolling my eyes at my stomach's ineptitude to be patient, I fold Elsa's letter before stashing it in the pocket of the hoodie I had fallen asleep in. You know, just in case the opportunity to address it comes up. Knowing me, I'd do anything in my power to make Elsa understand her apologies are never needed, but neither is the need to distance herself—and, also knowing me, I'd go as far as _creating_ an opportunity to bring the note up.

I end up following Elsa's lead in going for a run. Luckily, and especially in the winter, I'm more often than not dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie on the regular, so there was no need for me to go home and change or anything. In fact, the distance from Elsa's place to my own made for a decent run.

Nabbing a bagel from Elsa's kitchen on my way out—what, I'll pay her back for it!—I munch on it steadily on the elevator ride down. Of course, once the beast that is aptly named my stomach is sated for the time being, my brain takes the chance to resume my thoughts of Elsa.

Because, honestly, when am I _not_ thinking about Elsa?

Still, I start to think as I enter Central Park to begin my run home, did all that happen yesterday really constitute the effects? Maybe I'm not one to judge, being more of an outsider with this whole ordeal, but I thought Elsa did pretty damn good. Sure, I wasn't the one being asked the questions; I wasn't the one in the beginning stages of a clinical trial; I wasn't the one getting a prosthetic…

Okay, maybe on second thought, Elsa acted exactly as one would think.

But _still_ going straight to her room upon returning home? Not acknowledging me in the slightest when I tried to comfort her? Remaining alone in her room for a good 18 hours? Again, I'm no expert, but being left alone with the thoughts I'm sure Elsa had swarming her mind can't be healthy, can it?

More questions for Milo, it would seem.

Just as my train of thought is about to switch gears—but still on Elsa, mind you—something colliding into me has me collapsing to the ground in a heap, my only coherent thought in that moment being, _so that happened_.

I feel a stinging in my palms as I work to break my fall, and I guess I have the cold weather to thank that my knees were better protected due to my sweats, as even they tingle a bit as I make the effort to get to my knees.

"I'm so sorry, are you hurt?" a kind, alert voice asks.

Gritting my teeth, I have half a mind to shove my definitely-bleeding palms into this stranger's face and bellow, _what's it look like, Sherlock?_ but then I remember it hasn't even been an hour since I woke up so I'm still my morning grump—no matter what the nearest clock says—and that he/she can't see any blood from their vantage point. So instead, I look up, following tattered sneakers and slim back track pants, up to a chiseled face and moss-green eyes.

I'd go on about the hair too, as it's only a subtle shade darker than mine, but the outrageously obvious sideburns has me choking back a guffaw and immediately brings this stranger's attractiveness from a 10 to 3.

"Are you hurt?" the stranger repeats, now going as far to reach a hand out to help me up.

I spare my bloody palms a glance before grimacing and moving to stand up on my own.

"I'm fine," I reply. "Maybe a bit startled, 'cause I was seriously lost in my thoughts back there, but… Yeah, fine."

"I'm truly sorry," Sideburns repeats _again_. "I was changing the song on my iPod, and by the time I looked up, you were on the ground."

I shrug. "Happens to the best of us. Plus it probably doesn't help that I'm a natural born klutz."

Sideburns chuckles. "Well, to repay you, can I buy you lunch? Or just a cup of coffee?"

Well that came completely from left field. I mean, I know he just knocked me over, but a simple apology was all I was expecting. Not…a date.

"Uh…I…"

"I'm sorry, was that too brazen?" Sideburns asks, yet doesn't seem to look apologetic this time at all.

"A little, yeah," I reply honestly. "I mean, I'm fine. Nothing's broken or damaged, so there's nothing to repay me for. I mean, yeah my hands got scraped up, but I have plenty of band aids at home, so…"

"Well, at the very least, I'm Hans," Sideburns informs me with what's probably supposed to be a charming smile, and maybe if I wasn't so…well, _gay_, I'd be swooning by now.

"Anna," I quip back, not at all turned on by "Hans's" attempts to be suave.

"So, my assumptions were correct."

That has me quirking an eyebrow. "About what?"

"You're _that_ Anna," he reveals. "The boxer trained by Elsa Arendelle."

I blink, the surprise from being recognized in public for the first time startling. Then, I see Hans's smile go from polite to devilish, and I suddenly feel for Elsa in her fear of being recognized.

"You're also…her _lover_, am I correct?" he basically taunts.

"_Excuse me_?" I bite out. "How is that _any _of your business?"

Hans just shrugs, continuing to look coy. "I make it my priority to know every little thing going on in Elsa's life. Up until recently, for the longest time that was a very difficult thing to do, but then you came along. Tell me, how is it some _kid_ was able to bring down the Ice Queen's walls?"

What is this guy, a stalker? Ice Queen? _Kid_?!

"I was going to assume you and Elsa were friends, but after that latest spiel, I'm going to settle for enemies instead, am I right?"

Hans scoffs and rolls his eyes, and I'm getting more and more tempted to just punch the guy and continue merrily on my way, but part of me keeps me back. If Elsa's involved, especially with someone as slimy as this guy seems to be, it's my duty as "best girlfriend ever" to stand up for her in her absence.

Right?

So, hell if I know, this being my first girlfriend I've ever had to stand up for, but this guy is just sending off bad vibes in waves, so maybe it's best I do stay put.

"I like the term 'friendly rivals,' but I'm sure Elsa would disagree," Hans explains.

"I'd have to back that wager," I quip.

Hans's grin just grows. "So," he prods, "care to answer my question?"

I roll my eyes and retort, "Which one? 'Cause I'm more than just her 'lover,' I'm her friend, and I sure as hell don't have to show how I brought down her 'walls' to someone who obviously couldn't care less."

"But I do care," Hans replies with such fake sympathy I almost gag. "After all, it's Elsa who ruined my life."

Now I scoff. "Sure. Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Well, that's because you're young and naïve. Not to mentioned blinded by a false love."

"_Excuse _you?" I snap, standing to my full height and getting in his face—which, admittedly still leaves a few inches between our eyes, Hans being quite tall. "Naïve? Blind? _False love_?"

"Oh, Anna," Hans sighs sickeningly. "Anna, Anna, Anna, you have so much to learn about our dear Elsa."

"Then, please, enlighten me," I mutter.

Crossing his arms, Hans leans away with a smug smile. "I'll say this: has it ever occurred to you _why _Elsa hasn't been in any 'relationships' before you? Are you really so foolish to believe that once she's back to her old self she'll still rely on you? Want you around? _Love you_?"

"You're underestimating what Elsa and I have."

But, a darker part of my mind juts in, isn't that something I've subconsciously feared for a while now? Hans may be on to something.

_No!_ I scold myself. _He's wrong! He has to be!_ _He's just putting me on._

Right?

Hans laughs. "I see I struck a nerve." Grin curling once again, he turns on his heel and begins to walks away. "Think about it, Anna; Elsa's using you. That girl can't love to save her life, although I'm guessing she's putting on a pretty good display from how loyal and whipped you are by her. Also," he looks over his shoulder, and I can see the challenge in his eyes, "if you ever want to fight a _real_ boxer, come to the empty lot behind The Dakota on Tuesday night. I'll show you a real fight. See how 'Elsa's prodigy' holds up when it matters most."

Then, he saunters off and I can almost see the smugness radiating from him. I stand in place silently seething for several minutes, before the clenching of my fists has my palms protesting in pain. Shaking my head violently to clear that bizarre, unpleasant and unwanted encounter, I continue on my run.

Except Hans's words refuse to leave me alone.

What if he's right? I had thought it myself, what would happen between Elsa and me once this whole ordeal is over. It goes back to what I thought before. The only Elsa I know is damaged, broken Elsa; while she's gradually healing and I'm getting glimpses of her past self, is that really what I'm seeing? Will she be the Elsa before all this happened? Will that be for the better or the worse?

My mind is at war with myself as I continue sprinting through Central Park, hoping how greatly I'm wearing myself out will calm these raging thoughts.

All this also begs the question: why does Hans seem to hate Elsa so much? He made it blatantly obvious to only begin insulting her when I didn't deny being her "lover;" up to that moment, he had seemed kind and pure. Good thing he didn't keep that façade up for long, otherwise I might have truly fallen for it.

It also seemed as though Hans has known Elsa for a while, like maybe even going as far back as before Elsa first made the Olympics. If so, he _does _know a lot more about her than I ever could hope to at this moment in time. Did that automatically make him the expert here? Or was it me? Because I'm the closest person to Elsa in the present.

What was up? What was down?

When I finish my run three hours later after having run the perimeter of Central Park at least three times, I wind up back at Elsa's without a second thought—seriously, I basically don't even go to my own place now except to get new clothes. Still not having my own key—another thing I should maybe bring up here soon—I settle for knocking. Elsa answers quickly, beaming relief present on her face as she drinks me in.

"Anna!" she exclaims before she has me in a tight embrace. "I was hoping you'd come back! I'm so, so sorry for last night. Do you forgive me?"

When I don't say anything immediately nor return her hug, she pulls me back, frown soon creasing her features.

"Anna?"

I blink, and my gaze focuses on her; on her worry, her concern, for nothing else but me.

_But is that real concern, or another show?_ the darkness left in my brain by Hans taunts maliciously. _Don't fall for her tricks._

"I…" I start to say, my voice thick and throat dry from the rigorous exercise minutes prior. "I ran into someone you know."

I'm still in my right mind enough to notice the adorable look that is Elsa curious as she cocks her head.

"Who?"

Looking up at her meekly, I speak, "Hans?"

Her eyes are immediately flooded with a variety of emotions, all of which I pick up on the instance they flash by. Surprise, fear, anger; they're all present.

"W-What did he say to you?" she asks.

I cross my arms indignantly and huff. "Nothing nice once he learned I was 'that' Anna. He tried to convince me that I was in over my head with you and that I'm blinded by ignorance and love in thinking you're worth all the love and attention I and everyone else give you." I roll my eyes and bite out, "He even tried to tell me that the love you have for me is all a façade, and once you're better, you'll cast me aside like some broken toy."

I can see Elsa's eyes wavering now, though the anger is more present than any pain. Reaching out, she pulls me to her in a crushing hug, cradling my head tenderly.

"You don't really believe any of that, do you?" she questions in a whisper, where I can just begin to pick up on the fear seeping in to her tone.

_Good question_, the bad part of my brain retorts. _Give us a few weeks or so and try asking again._

"No!" I cry out, to quell her worries and silence the incessant voice in my head. "Only you and I know what we have, and it's _beautiful_. Pure." Kissing her, I add, "Hans can't possibly even begin to understand it."

She smiles, but I can still see that his words have upset her as much as they did me. Kissing my forehead, she pulls away, most likely finally picking up on the fact that I've been sweating.

"Did you go for a run too?" she asks.

I nod. "More like a sprint, actually, once Hans left."

Elsa chuckles and just shakes her head as she sits down at the kitchen island to continue her lunch. Taking the stool next to her, I decide now's as good a time as any to ask about her and Hans's past; see if there's anything that makes it obvious why Hans seems to hate her so much.

"So," I drawl out kind of awkwardly, always hating to pry in Elsa's private affairs, but also insanely curious. "Why does Hans dislike you so much?"

Elsa chuckles. "'Hate' is probably the better term."

I laugh abashedly. "I didn't want to sound too harsh."

Elsa flits me a smile before becoming somber once more and sighing. "I suppose you could say we've always been like this since the beginning," she begins. "I met Hans freshman year of high school. Believe it or not, for the first two years, we were best friends."

"Really?" I can't help but balk.

"I don't suppose he tried to 'charm' you in your brief meeting, did he?"

I mimic gagging, getting another giggle from Elsa, before answering, "Unfortunately."

"Well, I fell for it," she explains. "He was just so nice at first. I have always had trouble making friends, but with him, it just came easy. It helped that we had almost all our classes together. Even outside of school, we spent a lot of time with each other; so much so that my parents came to see him as the son they never had. He was charming with them, caring with me, and the all-around 'cool guy' at school. All the girls were jealous that I was so close to him without putting in any effort.

"I guess that's where the story turns," she sighs. "Come the end of sophomore year, Hans asked me to a end of the year school dance. I said I'd go, only because I was too naïve to believe he had asked me with intentions other than as friends. We go the dance and start to have a good time. We danced, we laughed, and then he began to flirt." She looks at me as she says, "You remember how I told you about how oblivious I was to anything romantic back then, right?"

I nod mutely, not daring to interrupt another of Elsa's in depth revelations.

"So, yeah," she huffs. "He was flirting with me, and looking back on it now, it was all so obvious—almost painfully so—but I just didn't catch on. I'd thank him whenever he said how beautiful I looked, or agreed I was having a great time too, but I didn't give him anything more than that. Even if I _had_ been aware he was flirting, I don't think I would have acted any differently. I just…didn't care about dating. I didn't see him that way; I didn't see_ anyone_ that way.

"Then he tried to kiss me," she mumbles bitterly and I'm clenching my fists because I have an idea of where this could go. "I tried to pull away before, but he managed to get a small peck in. I managed to get through the night with just that, but after then, he just assumed we were together. It took me a week to build up the courage to explain to him that I didn't see him that way. Of course, I said the stupid thing about still wanting to be friends, and that really set him off.

"He claimed he could have any girl in the school with the snap of his fingers, but he had devoted the past two years of his life to me despite that. He thought that meant I was obligated to him or something, but the entire time, I was just thinking he was being my friend out of the goodness of his heart, not because he…wanted me. He began to start rumors about how _I_ shot him down, that he only befriended me in the first place because I was socially inept, and gave me the nickname Ice Queen."

"Yeah, he…called you that," I pipe up, not really knowing if I should or not.

Elsa rolls her eyes again and mumbles, "Of course he did."

"But…is that it?" I ask carefully after Elsa doesn't continue talking. "He dislikes you so much because you didn't want to date him?"

"Knowing him, that's probably the biggest reason, but no; there's more."

_More_?

"I had been boxing the entire time we had been friends. Hans always came to any practice I had, and all my tournaments as well. After we 'broke up,'" she even goes as far as using quotation marks, "he took up the sport as well. I know it was most likely to spite me, but I actually enjoyed it. It gave me a way to show him how bad he had hurt me, and that while he was better at other things than I was, one thing he'd never beat me at was boxing."

"Let me guess," I jump in. "The Olympics?"

Elsa smiles wanly with a nod. "Yeah. The first year I made the team, I only made it by a hair. The runner up? Hans. The next time we both tried for it, he didn't even come close while I was now the front runner."

"Serves him right," I mumble.

Elsa grins. "I suppose it does. It doesn't help that in every city tourney we competed in together, we were never allowed to fight each other, so he can't claim he ever beat me. Of course, I can't say I beat him either, but I definitely placed higher than him more often than not."

"So you are the better boxer, in a way," I tell her with my own grin. "Hans has nothing on you."

"Still," Elsa sighs again as her smile falls. "That obviously means nothing to him if he still hates me after all this time. He didn't say anything about my arm, did he? Or my…parents?"

"He never brought it up," I tell her earnestly. "At least he had the sense to leave that stone unturned."

Elsa shrugs. "I'm sure that's not the last we'll see of him."

"Yeah," I chuckle, now refusing to look her way, "about that… He, uh…kinda challenged me to a fight."

"What?!" she yelps. "What did you say?"

"Nothing!" I reply honestly, waving my hands frantically to ward off the thoughts I'm sure are swarming her mind now. "He left before I could say anything about it!"

"Well, if he brings it up again, please don't do it, Anna," she pleads. "We all know you're a good boxer, but this is _Hans_. I'm sure he has some trick up his sleeve and knowing that he knows your association with me, he'll play dirty. I don't want to see you get hurt by him too."

"I can handle anything he throws at me, believe me," I tell her with conviction. Though, upon seeing her about to protest, I add quickly, "But I won't I promise."

Taking my hand, she squeezes it tightly. "Thank you."

Of course, depending on Hans's continued interference in our lives, that promise may be subject to change. If there's one thing in life I can't stand, it's people like him who get off on the manipulation and suffering of others.

XxXxX

"I'm very pleased you decided to return, Elsa."

Two days after the run-in with Hans, I had managed to convince Elsa to give the trial another shot. It wasn't that easy of a task, what with the heartfelt, teary cuddle session we had the night before, but she's here now, and once again I couldn't be more proud of her. Despite her repeated whimpers last night of "I can't do this" and "I'm too cowardly," she's here now and that's all that matters to me. Elsa _is _strong, she _can_ do this; just getting her to believe it is the difficult part.

"I…I wanted to, really," she begins to explain. "I just…"

"Needed some time away," I finish for her, smiling kindly and taking her hand in mine.

Dr Porter looks between us and smiles himself. "Well, that's completely understandable. All of us here realize what a toll this can take on a person and their loved ones. Why, we've had several participants step away for months before continuing and there's nothing wrong with that."

"See, Elsa?" I chirp cheerfully, giving her hand a squeeze. "There's no need to fret!"

"So, Elsa," Dr Porter begins, "would you like to pick up where we left off last time? The psychological aspect of the study?"

Elsa timidly nods, although already she's doing a better job keeping eye contact this time than before. Smiling widening, Dr Porter nods.

"Wonderful!" he exclaims. "Well, our group meets twice a week in a room down the hall—we have the entire wing here dedicated to this study—on Tuesdays and Fridays. You are expected to attend at least one a week. The group consists of your fellow trial members, all of which are here for different needs and come from different backgrounds. The group is headed by my granddaughter, Jane, a doctorate student at Columbia."

"So it's really…just a bunch of talking about our…fears?" Elsa pipes up.

"Exactly," Dr Porter nods again. "Jane may pose questions every now and then to get a discussion started, or if she wants you all to focus on a particular aspect for the day, but most of the time you all have the floor to say what you wish. Like any therapy group, each of you sign a confidentiality form stating that whatever is said in the group stays within the group. Jane and myself are the only ones in the study aside from you all who know what is said, and only because we have to approve you all before continuing the trial."

I glance to Elsa to see if she's grasping any of this, and am pleased to see her listening intently to Dr Porter, nodding every so often and truly taking everything into consideration rather than casting it aside out of fear.

"Okay," she mumbles after a while.

I squeeze her hand again. She looks over and gives me a small smile.

"In that case," Dr Porter looks to Elsa expectantly, yet warmly, "if you'd like, I spoke to Jane earlier about you sitting in on the group today. You don't have to participate this time, but this will let you get a feel, perhaps, as to what it will be like next time. Plus, you'll be able to be introduced to your fellow trial mates."

Elsa only nods in a numb manner before standing to make after Dr Porter. Before the man is halfway out the room, however, she speaks up.

"Can… Can Anna come with me?" And I can hear the near-pleading tone her voice takes on here. "Please?"

Dr Porter's smile falters a bit, but he quickly retains it as he nods.

"I suppose this one time couldn't hurt, to make you feel more comfortable, but when you begin to actually be a part of the sessions, I'm afraid Anna will have to wait behind."

Elsa looks ready to protest at that, and I'm almost certain she's going to bring up that Milo let me tag along so why can't I here, but I'm stepping front of her and smiling tenderly before she gets the chance.

"It's okay, Elsa," I reassure her. "You'll be fine without me. And remember, we're doing this at _your _pace, so if you're not ready by Friday, or even next Tuesday, we'll wait until you are, okay?"

"Young Anna is right," Dr Porter backs me up. "I in no way expect you back here Friday. Even when you do come to your first session, none of us expect you to jump right in to conversation. Therapy is a daunting thing, Elsa, and all of us here understand that. Please, there's nothing to fear."

With another nod and a shaky okay, Elsa and I follow Dr Porter down the hall, hands still locked tightly together.

When Dr Porter pushes open the door, we're met with just about what you would expect any group therapy scene to look like. There's a cluster of chairs forming a circle in the middle of the room, and a small table with some refreshments sits off to the side. The people in the chairs range from a young girl to an older gentleman about Dr Porter's age, and all sporting different kinds of losses and obviously in different stages of the trial. Some are missing just an arm like Elsa, others are missing a leg, and even some others are missing both limbs completely. Some have no prosthetic at all, while others seem to have already been fitted with their robotic substitute.

"Janey?"

As Dr Porter speaks up, the group ceases conversation and looks over at us, a young brunette girl beaming at us as she makes to stand. I feel Elsa shift almost imperceptibly closer to me.

"Oh, this must be Elsa!" the brunette, Jane, apparently, exclaims as she comes to a stop before us. "And you must be Anna!"

Elsa and I nod in turn.

"Elsa is here to sit in on the rest of your session, dear, and Anna's accompanying her this once," Dr Porter tells her, all the while Jane continues to smile warmly at Elsa, almost like coaxing a five year-old on their first day of Kindergarten to come out from behind their parent's legs—which isn't all that far from the truth here, honestly.

"That's just marvelous, Elsa," Jane says. "I was just telling everyone earlier that we may have a newcomer starting soon."

Elsa shoots another timid smile, but doesn't make to move out from behind me any. Jane, bless her soul, doesn't point any of this out and simply invites us both closer to the group. Dr Porter, meanwhile, nabbing a couple more chairs from a wall.

"Now, let's all make room for Elsa and Anna," Jane tells the group. "Elsa will be joining us in our talks here in her own time, so let's make sure she feels extra welcomed. Anna too."

Several people look at us with kind smiles, while others wave or nod. The young girl meanwhile smiles a toothy grin and immediately scoots her chair over.

"Miss Elsa can sit by me!" she shouts.

"That's very sweet of you, Reilly, thank you," Jane tells her.

I incline my head towards the little girl and Elsa slowly walks to sit down next to her. I don't fail to see Elsa glance at the girl's lack of both her legs, and her hand only tightens around mine when she notices.

"T-Thank you, Reilly," Elsa manages to squeak.

Reilly simply beams again, squirming in her chair.

"Now, Kovu, you were telling us all about your latest success in the lab?" Jane prods, and just like that, Elsa and I are sucked into the world of therapy.


	30. Chapter 29: Stand Tall

**Guys, I updated before a month was over! *****everyone rejoices***** Five-ish chapters left! Maybe we can wrap this up before the New Year! (Yeah right… I can dream though.)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Nine: Stand Tall<strong>

Elsa surprises everyone when she walks into the hospital the following Tuesday for her first real session of therapy. I wish I had my camera up on my phone when we walked in, as the looks on Dr Porter's, Jane's, and Tadashi's faces were all priceless. So was the meek smile and radiant blush Elsa had shortly sported from their reactions. I had been expecting her to be reluctant to do this without me at least in the room with her, and was ready for her to ask one last time if I could sit in, but she was a champ and followed Jane without a word—albeit there was a final hesitant glance she shot me as she did. I gave her a thumbs up before she turned the corner; the next step of this perilous journey beginning.

That was an hour ago, and I have been sitting in the lobby ever since. Every now and then, Terk and I will chat about menial things like how our holidays went, how I met Elsa, if I plan on going to school for anything up here, and etcetera; but for the most part, I'm left alone, which I honestly don't mind. I had been expecting that, and had brought a book in preparation.

Of course, after rereading the same paragraph for the fourth time, I realize I'm not really getting anything accomplished.

And, no, before anyone assumes, I'm not worried about how Elsa's doing in her session; I have faith in her that she's doing just fine—not to mention the gut feeling within me that flares whenever something's wrong is pleasantly docile at the moment. Of course, "fine" can mean quite a lot in this situation, and may mean she even comes out of there feeling worse than when she went in. But, that is _fine_; Jane and Dr Porter told us that. It may take a while for Elsa to feel comfortable enough to open up, but sitting there bottling everything up is equally as painful. She's going to have to learn for herself how much give and take she can allow.

No, my thoughts are focused instead on what lies ahead of us, after all of this is over for good. Like, long-time future shit. Even if Hans hadn't stirred the pot, I feel like I'd still be mulling all this over, because who wouldn't? Doesn't everyone think about their future on a regular basis? Especially if that future could possibly involve another?

I had already been pondering over possibly moving in together for some time. The biggest question remained when the best time to bring this up to Elsa would be. Would it be a shit move to bring it up now? I mean, she has enough going on right now to occupy her mind, should I really dump on her, "Oh, hey, let's shake things up even more and starting living in real close quarters with each other 'cause we totally don't see enough of each other already?"

I mean, yeah, it's true; I basically live with her now anyway, and have for quite some time. More and more of my clothes are being left there, and even when I get dressed at _my_ place, some piece of Elsa's wardrobe mysteriously appears in mine and I end up wearing that instead of my own stuff. How screwy is that?

But, that's beside the point, as messed up as that may be.

Before I can get back on track, however, a small group of people walks out into the lobby, and I immediately recognize some of them from Elsa's new group. I'll have to pick up that train of thought later. What I did manage to decide though, is that I will be bringing up moving in together very soon, as I'm almost one hundred percent positive Elsa will heartily agree.

Speak of the devil; I can't keep the smile off my face as I watch her bring up the rear of the group, walking slowly alongside the young girl with no legs who readily let Elsa sit next to her last time.

Reilly, was it?

Elsa has a small smile on her face as she listens to Reilly going on about something at school, the little girl's wide gestures keeping her from adequately directing the wheel chair she sits in. Soon enough, Elsa kindly takes over, now wheeling Reilly out and over to the man and woman standing beside me. Reilly doesn't even spare her parents a glance until she's finished her story.

"Well, it sounds like you have some great times at school, Reilly," I hear Elsa tell her with a chuckle once she's wrapped up.

"Definitely!" Reilly boisterously agrees. "Once I get my legs, everyone's _really_ gonna be jealous at how well I can play hockey!"

"I bet they will."

Reilly's grin widens before she belts out, "See ya later, Elsa!"

Elsa waves and gives her parents a polite nod before making her way to me. I immediately grab her in a hug.

"You're so good with kids," I mumble into her neck.

Elsa scoffs a laugh as she hugs back. "Guess I have you to thank for that," she replies. "I never really was around many before I started tagging along with you to work."

"I'm just that amazing," I quip with a grin before stealing a kiss.

"I believe we established that."

As we begin walking out, I finally ask, "So how was it?"

"Good."

I blink, trying my hardest to keep walking even though I really want to stop and fix Elsa with a stare.

That's it?

"Just good?" I prod.

Elsa shrugs, and the fact that she refuses to make eye contact with me is duly noted.

"I mean, it was just my first session. I mainly just listened to the others."

"Well, did you get to know anyone else?" Rolling my eyes, I gesture behind me and add, "Besides Miss Wild Child back there?"

That gets a snort from her before she's staring at the ground and uttering a pathetic, "Not really."

"O-kay," I drawl out, not really knowing how to proceed with this. There's obviously something she's not telling me, and I bet if I had a chance to glance at her eyes, I'd clearly see the emotions raging there, but that's kinda hard to do when she _won't fucking look at me_. "Well, how about I treat us to lunch? A little celebration for this milestone?"

Another shrug, and I know I have my work cut out for me.

Lunch doesn't help. Even sitting across from her at a cute little hole-in-the-wall we stumbled upon, I _still_ can't make eye contact with her. First it was a steady gaze at the menu, then the table while we waited for our meals, then her food. Now, we're back to staring a hole into the table.

"Elsa, come on, _please_ talk to me," I plead gently, cautiously reaching under the table and taking her hand. She grasps it tightly this time and I know she wants to talk.

The only question is _will_ she.

"Is it a confidentiality thing?" I ask, knowing she had to sign a form beforehand stating that she cannot tell anyone outside the group what goes on behind the doors, and that anything she says will not be repeated to anyone outside the study.

She shakes her head and I lean forward, further across the table.

"Then what?"

She finally looks up at me—_really_ looks up at me, not just a quick, nanosecond glance like I'd been receiving lately—and I finally understand.

Guilt.

"It's just…" she starts, her voice so wet and wavering so heavily my heart breaks. "I don't deserve to be in the study."

Instantly I jump from my side of the table and sidle in next to Elsa in her booth. I just manage to pull her close to me before she breaks down into quiet sobs.

"Of _course_ you deserve to be in the study," I assure her. "Why do you think that?"

"B-Because there's people in there who deserve it more than me!" she cries. "I m-mean, look at R-Reilly! She was born without _both_ her legs, a-and this war vet, K-Kovu, lost an arm _and_ a leg in Af-Afghanistan! Then there's m-me; this…d-damaged child whose only lost _half_ her arm in a c-car accident!"

The waitress comes close to take our check, but a quick glare from me has her quickly changing direction with the nod of her head. Cradling Elsa's head, I begin to plant several kisses along her forehead and down her cheek.

"And what happened to Reilly and Kovu is truly horrible, Elsa," I agree with her. "But what happened to you is _equally_ as horrible. I know it may not seem like it, but the number of limbs lost doesn't change what matters most: _All_ of you lost precious things. Mobility, confidence; hell, you lost your _parents_, Elsa!"

When she only sniffs in response, I gently lift her head so she's looking at me once again. With a tender smile, I plant a soft kiss upon her lips.

"Why didn't you bring this up in the group?" I murmur, refusing to truly break the kiss, knowing she needs the comfort. "I'm sure others have felt the same at first."

Elsa glances away and bites her lip. "I… I didn't think it was worth mentioning."

"Not worth…?!" I sigh and run my fingers through her hair. "Elsa, _anything_ troubling you is worth mentioning; that's the whole point of this group."

"But it's hard…admitting these kinds of things," she whispers. "I mean, I didn't even want to tell _you_; how can I just be ready to admit something like this to strangers?"

"What about if we just talked to Jane or Dr Porter first?" I try to mediate. "You _need_ to talk to someone about these doubts and insecurities, Elsa."

"But I'm talking to you," she points out, and I've never been more reminded of a child than now, even though I work with them.

"But I'm not part of the group, Elsa."

She looks dejectedly down at her lap and grumbles, and I only grin as her child-like mannerisms increase.

"Look," I tell her, "don't think about any of that now, okay? You don't have to worry about anything until Friday. For now, let's just enjoy the rest of the day and live one day at a time, alright?"

She quietly nods and I plant one final kiss to her lips before pulling away. Grinning, I add, "And I think I know just what will cheer you up!"

She looks to me curiously as I flag down the waitress, but doesn't say anything, and continues to remain silent as we walk out of the restaurant. A quick kiss to my cheek and a mumbled, "Thank you, Anna," are her only words.

Until we make it to Rockefeller Center and she looks to me quizzically.

"What are we doing here?" she asks.

The grin returns to my face as I gesture below the balcony we're standing on. "Why, ice skating of course."

Even with the large Christmas tree gone for the season, the rink is still a spectacular sight to behold. Only into the first week of January, several Christmas lights still decorate the walls of the rink, casting a calming glow across the ice. With the sun setting and the city's lights becoming more and more awake, the setting truly is magical in a sense, never mind that it's no longer the "holiday season."

"But you can't skate," Elsa deadpans after she looks below us and takes in all the people ready to watch be flail about epically.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I grumble with a playful shove to her shoulder. When she chuckles, I take her hand once more. "It's just," I try to explain, "when we skated in Central Park, you looked so carefree and…_happy _and I want to see that again. I want you to _feel_ that again. Just let it all go and do something you obviously love, okay? And don't worry about me." I smirk, and throw my braids behind my shoulder haughtily. "I may fall a bunch again, but I've learned to take it all in stride."

With another laugh, Elsa nods and smiles, and I see all the pain and doubt that's been haunting her vanish in the blink of an eye.

"Okay," she utters with a squeeze of my hand.

Both of us beaming, we descend the stairs to acquire some skates. In no time, Elsa's skating fluidly and daintily towards the center of the rink, pulling me along. When we come to a stop, Elsa turns to face me.

"Before I have my fun, we're going to work some more on _your_ skills, okay?"

I nod excitedly, more so because she's actively taking charge in something that she holds a lot of confidence in more than me actually learning to skate.

"You would barely let go of the rail in Central Park, so now we're going to completely forgo it here." She grins cheekily. "Think you can handle that?"

"Well, it doesn't seem like I have much of a choice, does it?" I retort with a smile. "If I say no, you'll just skate off and leave me stranded in the middle of the rink, right?"

Kissing the tip of my nose, Elsa giggles. "True."

She looks down at our feet then, and I follow, taking note of how steadily Elsa remains while my feet are wobbling considerably, the slickness beneath us too unfamiliar.

"It's really simple once you get the hang of it," she tells me. "And it's a simple concept when you think about it. Just glide, and pivot; glide, and pivot."

"Pivot?" I repeat, the word foreign.

Elsa rolls her eyes. "Turn," she simplifies.

"Oh."

Gently beginning to pull me forward, Elsa expertly skates backwards to keep a watchful eye on me. My feet begin to slide forward on their own, but once my legs stretch to an uncomfortable degree, I push off with the foot furthest back before carefully placing it back by the other.

"There you go," Elsa cheers. "Now pivot."

"Turn," I mumble to myself. Gotta keep things simple in the heat of the moment.

Ever so cautiously, I push off with one foot at an angle, and suddenly Elsa and I are moving a bit to the right.

Even though I wanted to go to the left.

I'm not the only one so confounded by all this, right?

"Good," Elsa comments, grasping my hands tighter again. "Try not to think about it as much, though. You'll enjoy it more."

"Until I fall on my ass," I grumble, shooting a weak, playful glare at her.

Pulling me within an inch of her face, I hear her breathe against my lips in a familiar, sultry tone, "I'll catch you, love."

I shiver for reasons other than the cold.

All goes smoothly and once I've successfully skated in a small circle—with the continued assistance of Elsa, of course—Elsa grants me a full kiss on the lips as a prize. Pulling back, she winks.

"Think you'll be okay out here by yourself for a bit while I do my own thing?"

As she slowly lets me go, I wobble for only a moment before maintaining more of my balance than I had ever managed to before.

"Y-Yeah," I stutter once I'm fifty percent sure I won't fall.

Shooting me another wink, she pushes away, toying with me as she says, "Try and catch up if you think you can."

Sure, Elsa, I think to myself with a roll of my eyes. Whatever you say.

As I watch her skate around on her own, however, the confidence she oozes somehow begins to flow into me. After watching her land a triple axel, I come to the conclusion that Elsa was once in my shoes; an uncertain, klutzy idiot who only got to where she is today because of perseverance.

And maybe if I show her I'm willing to fumble my way through my own challenge, that lesson will subliminally be transmitted to Elsa about her doubts and insecurities.

After all, no one ever got anywhere without a few scrapes and falls. Persistence is key.

That being said, it doesn't make it automatically any easier as I slowly push off on my own, all the while trying not to skate into anyone or fall on my ass. After landing some other fancy jump, Elsa catches me inching ever so slowly towards her and her eyes light up as a smile overtakes her face.

"You're moving, Anna!" she jokes aloud. "I was only kidding!"

"Well, I gotta show you up somehow, right?" I shout, there still being quite some distance between us, all the people and music playing overhead not helping matters.

She gives me a look, but skates over, yet gives me considerable birth, continuing to let me handle things on my own as she skates around me.

"Try and stand straighter," she says. "It'll keep you steadier."

I try to do as she says; yet the sudden jerky of my body throws me off balance and I feel myself beginning to fall to the ground.

Of course, Elsa's there just in time to catch me with that angelic laugh of hers.

"Right," she laughs. "What was I thinking; a klutz like you actually having good posture?" She heaves me back up and ruffles my hair. "Maybe in your case, you need to be as low to the ground as possible."

I pull away from her touch and flick her forehead. "Ha ha, funny."

Wrapping her arms around me lovingly, she presses our foreheads together, a tender smile on her face the entire time.

"I love you," she whispers.

"I love you, too," I return with my own smile.

Kissing me softly, she begins to skate for us both, and it almost feels more like we're dancing. Not that I care. As long as I'm interlocked with Elsa, we could be in a cage under water and surrounded by sharks for all I care.

"Thanks for this," she says next. "It really helped. My head feels clearer, and I'm ready to tackle next time head on now. I can't promise this won't happen again, but…"

"Then we'll just come back here," I finish. "And once this rink and the one in the park close, we'll find something else. No matter how long it takes, Elsa, we'll find something."

Just as her eyes begin to water ever so slightly, the music changes tracks and suddenly Elsa's looking up at the speakers. If she were a dog, I could totally see her ears perking curiously as she takes in the newest melody.

"I love this song," she mumbles.

I listen attentively to the gentle guitar that picks up as the vocals begin.

_You are oxygen on a late night drive_

_To clear my head when hope has passed me by_

_You are gravity when I'm upside down_

_You help me find my way back to the ground_

_And this is why_

As the chorus kicks in, I chuckle softly, thinking Elsa and I have a soundtrack to our lives by sheer coincidence that follows us no matter where we are. Yet, as Elsa holds me tighter, her chin resting on my shoulder, the calming heat of her breath against my ear, and still moving us around the rink almost in a dance, I wish the music would always play.

Another shiver runs through me when I hear Elsa begin to sing so gently and devotedly. It's like this song was made just for us and that we're the only ones here in this moment. Forget the dozens of others moving around us, not sparing us a second glance; in this moment, I feel invincible, and it's all thanks to this perfect girl in my arms.

"_You are all I have_

_And all I need_

_And all I am is what you've made of me_

_And this is why_

_You're everything good_

_Everything true_

_When all the world is fading_

_You're everything new_

_You are my eyes_

_When I can't see_

_When all the world is broken_

_You will always be…"_

The most loving kiss in existence is pressed to the sweet spot behind my ear before Elsa pulls back and stares at me, eyes shining with pure affection as she utters the final lyric of the chorus adoringly, "_Everything good._"

A tear slides down my cheek rebelliously before I have her lips crushed against mine in a heated kiss, damn whoever stops to see. Elsa kisses back feverishly, her tongue dipping in for a quick taste before pulling out.

"You really are everything good, Anna."

I expel a pathetic half-laugh-half-sob as I reply, "As are you, Elsa."

And as we continue to skate a dance in the middle of Rockefeller Center, I'm reassured for the thousandth time that, no matter how bad things may get from this point out, it isn't anything Elsa's and my love can't conquer. Fuck what Hans thinks, and fuck the world for hurdling all its obstacles at us.

We will overcome them all.

* * *

><p><strong>Might have gone a bit overboard on the fluff there at the end, but... Unf. You guys are complaining? The babies deserve it! *cries* <strong>

**Plus, I just discovered the song that was used ("Everything Good" by Ashes Remain), and I fell in love with it after thinking it was made for this story. So, of course I had to work it in. **


	31. Chapter 30: Maintain Appearance

…**Well, at least it didn't take another month! *****sweats nervously because it was cutting it close*******

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty: Maintain Appearance<strong>

"What do you mean you don't want to go?"

My head falls against the closed bathroom door, Elsa once again taking refuge in the small room on the other side.

"I can't do this anymore, Anna," her voice carries back to me, filled with frustration, pain, and a tiny pinch of anger. "I hate these sessions. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to hear everyone's painful stories and then have to constantly relive my own? Just to get some kind of 'insight' from it in hopes I come to terms with what's going on? Is it wrong for me to become spiteful and think this is all some intricate bullshit?"

"Elsa, you're just saying that because you're frustrated and it's in the heat of the moment," I try to mediate. "What about those days you've come back feeling so unburdened and free? You've gotten _so_ much off your chest!"

She's silent for a moment before a grumbled, "I still don't want to go," has me chuckling.

"Just think of it this way," I force as much encouragement into my words as I speak, "this is your final session before the physical work happens. You get to start actually working towards your _arm_ now, Els."

"But I'll still have these sessions…"

"Everyone does and will," I say. "I'm sure you're not the only one who doesn't chomp at the bit for these."

There's a heavy sigh before I hear a shuffling, and Elsa has the door open a second later.

"Fine," she huffs. A small grin flickering, she adds, "But you owe me."

I roll my eyes. "I'll take you to Chuck E Cheese after," I joke.

When she just shoves me into the recently vacated bathroom and attempts to close the door, I break into laughter and the two of us dissolve into a tickle fight.

Jane doesn't seem to mind when we show up fifteen minutes late.

It had been a little over two weeks since Elsa's first session and it went without saying that they had been a constant roller coaster of emotion for Elsa. One day she'd come out with a big grin on her face, telling me how happy she felt to finally be confronting her demons in front of people who had honestly been through the same as her, and then other times she'd come out closed off like the first time. I'd have to poke and prod at her to get her to open up, but I firmly believe those times were when she truly was getting the most from it. Nobody said therapy's easy. I mean, I'm certainly not one to talk from experience, having never been to any aside from that undercover trip to Milo's, but I think it's basically a given. It's one thing to face your demons on your own, and another to share them with someone you've formed an intense, special bond with; yet, it's completely different and terrifying to open up to a group of strangers. Yet, if you finally get past the point of realizing that these people are here to help, you free your demons, you fight the evil, and you end up feeling completely liberated.

Elsa's finally realized that, I believe, and she's accepted the fact that while these sessions may be hard on her, they're a necessity—and not strictly because they're a part of the trial. That doesn't mean she's anxiously awaiting to go to each and every one, as this morning easily proved, but it is a lot easier getting her to walk into the hospital than it had ever been before.

Although, I suppose another reason Elsa didn't want to go today was because she was hoping not going would keep this day from progressing to ten o' clock tonight.

When I'll be meeting Hans to have our "no holds-barred" fight-despite the fact that I will make sure there are _some_ kind of rules.

The day that Elsa and I went ice-skating at Rockefeller, we had an inconvenient run-in with the Sideburned Crusader on our way home. Surprisingly, however, Hans made no smart remarks to Elsa, and instead focused his attention on me. Oh, sure, he said some less-than-pleasant things about Elsa right in front of her, but it was honestly as if he had no idea she was right beside me the entire time, with the way he was talking about her. Of course, I got on the offensive and tried to stand up for her, and then Hans reissued his challenge of a fight between the two of us.

Much to Elsa's detest—who had been doing her damnedest to pull me away the entire time—I agreed, and we had decided tonight would be the night it would go down. There wasn't really anything riding on the fight; I wouldn't get anything from winning, aside from wiping the floor with Hans' infuriating smug grin. Anyone who tried to tell me what Elsa and I had was anything but real, and that I was just a naïve girl in over my head was going to get their ass kicked.

After an hour's worth of deliberation upon getting home after that encounter, Elsa finally caved and gave me the go ahead to fight. She knew I didn't need her permission, and that I would most likely have gone no matter what she had said, but it was nice to know she actually had my back in this. I know she wants to fight her own battles, and Hans may be her biggest one, but my final rebuttal that night had been that I was her girlfriend, I was protective, and I was not about to let some prick talk bad about my girl. That claim was rewarded with a heated kiss, and an even more intense make out session that lasted well into the night once in the confines of the bedroom.

So, yeah. In less than eight hours, I will be back in the ring, only this time there will be no large crowd—as far as I knew—no prize money, and no bracket. Just me, Hans, and our fists.

And I'm pumped beyond belief. There's no doubt in my mind that I'll emerge victorious.

Because when anything involves Elsa, I won't quit.

"…But then Mr Weselton added too much vinegar and the whole thing exploded!" the exuberant voice of Reilly alerts me to the fact that Elsa's session is over. "It really _was_ like a volcano! You should've seen his face; he was so embarrassed!"

Elsa's wheeling Reilly out like she had been doing the past weeks while Reilly recounts one of many school stories. Seriously, why weren't my elementary years this entertaining? The two part with a hug before Reilly's off with her parents and Elsa's making her way over to me. The smile on her face and light in her eyes lets me know today was a good day.

"So?" I ask like always, greeting her with a kiss on the lips. "How'd it go?"

"Well," she answers, her smile lingering.

"The darkness retreating?"

She kisses my cheek as she responds with, "Immensely."

I match her smile, take her hand, and lead her down the hallway to the main lobby to speak with Terk. We had scheduled an appointment with Dr Callaghan in order to start the physical process of the trial now that Elsa had completed the required initial therapy.

"You excited to actually get this started with?" I inquire.

"I am, actually," Elsa nods. "No fear either. I mean, sure, I'm nervous, but I'm also ready."

I squeeze her hand and grin, a glimmer in my eyes. "Full speed ahead?"

She lets out a breath before grinning back. "Full speed ahead."

We're back in an exam room in no time, Dr Callaghan having joined us as soon as Terk led us back. Tadashi and Hiro linger in the doorway, Tadashi looking proud of Elsa while Hiro simply bounces up and down, holding a strange contraption I can't really observe giving his non-stop movement.

"Well, Elsa," Callaghan begins. "You have now successfully completed the first leg of this trial. How are you feeling?"

"A lot better than when I started," Elsa answers, even managing a joking undertone.

Callaghan chuckles. "That much is obvious. You're radiating confidence now, do you know that?"

Elsa blushes softly at the praise, but remains silent. I nudge her playfully with a wink.

"Now, I'm sure you've had enough self-exploration for the day, so why don't we talk about what's to be expected from now on?" He taps away on the tablet before him as he says this.

Elsa and I share a quick glance before we nod in unison.

"As of today, you will only have to attend therapy once a week," he explains. "Of course, you're welcome to come more often should you feel you have questions, or want to get something off your chest, but once is all we ask now. However, when you actually do get the prosthetic, you will be coming to _physical_ therapy three or four times a week, depending on your initial test upon receiving it, and how well your functioning progresses."

"You said before, that I might have trouble since my nerves could be so damaged and because it's been so long?" Elsa asks once Callaghan pauses. "When will I know the extent of that damage?"

"As soon as the prosthetic is ready," Tadashi speaks up, stepping further into the room. "Once we fit you with the prosthetic that is to be yours, we'll be able to tell."

Elsa just nods and looks at her right arm, her eyebrows furrowing in thought.

"These next few weeks will consist of a bit of waiting," Callaghan continues. "Today we will do a scan of your left arm, to determine the parameters and measurements needed to make the prosthetic fit you. Then, the scans are off to the lab where Hiro will be busy actually creating it."

Hiro steps up then, and holds out some metal contraption. "I use this to scan your good arm," he elucidates. "It's kind of like an x-ray. Without this, the prosthetic would end up being too heavy or too light and would take even longer to get right. This shortens the period by basically letting me create a mirror image of your left arm to make the right."

"Of course, no person's arms are identical, even though they may appear to be," Callaghan goes on. "Still, since your arms will differentiate between bone, muscle and skin, and robotics, metallic alloys and carbon fiber, we figured everything else may as well be completely identical."

"Makes enough sense to me," I pipe up with a shrug and getting a laugh from Elsa.

Callaghan looks to Elsa. "So, ready to begin?"

"I… I just have one question," Elsa speaks up, a bit of a nervous undertone we all pick up on.

"Yes?" Callaghan prods.

Elsa sighs and looks at her lap briefly before looking back up and sparing Callaghan, Tadashi and Hiro each a glance.

"I'm not…taking priority over anyone else in the study just because I'm…me, right?" she asks, and I can see the apprehension on her face. "I mean, I'm a…_celebrity_," she says this with a bitter bite, "but I hate being treated like one. Kovu's fought for his country, a-and Reilly's just a kid; in my eyes that trumps anything else, so…I-I just don't want all the focus to be on me if it's taking away from the others."

The three men in the room all share a look before their attention is back on Elsa, sympathetic smiles on all their faces.

"Elsa," Callaghan says softly, "I assure you that is not the case. You know yourself that Kovu is already in physical therapy, and as for Reilly and the others, well… Everyone moves at their own pace. But please, never for one minute think you're getting any kind of special treatment. You're moving on because you deserve it; nothing more, nothing less."

Heaving another great breath, Elsa nods resolutely with a whispered, "okay," before Hiro approaches her.

"I'll put this on your left arm, okay?" he says. "You won't feel anything, but it will beep and make some noise."

Elsa nods again and extends her arm. Hiro carefully encloses it in the machine before bringing up his own tablet. Elsa glances at me dubiously, to which I can only squeeze her shoulder comfortingly. In moments, the machine is lighting up and beeping and whirring.

"This will just take about thirty seconds," Hiro states.

"I know he said it won't, but does it feel like anything?" I can't help asking Elsa.

"Not really," she says. "I mean, aside from the weight of the thing on me, I can't feel anything."

"Just like an x-ray, huh?" Hiro exclaims proudly. I snort when I see Tadashi roll his eyes from behind his brother.

Seconds later, Elsa's arm is freed, and Hiro is looking over what I'm guessing are the results of the scan.

"All looks good!" he says. "Give me a week, and I'll have the first model ready!"

Callaghan dismisses the siblings then, and Tadashi and Hiro part with friendly goodbyes. Callaghan turns back to Elsa.

"So, that's all for today," he tells us. "Easy, huh?"

Elsa and I nod, even though we're well aware the hardest part has yet to come. Still, neither of us brings it up as we're discharged for the day, and we're on the subway back to Elsa's before either of us speaks.

"So," Elsa expels with a sigh, "your fight."

"My fight," I echo.

"You ready?"

"Hell yeah," I tell her, a devilish gleam in my eyes. "Gotta fight for my girl, right?"

Nuzzling up under my cheek, she croons, "My hero."

I just chuckle and make a show of flexing my muscles, which has us descending into our second fitful of giggles of the day. Finally quieting, Elsa plants a soft kiss against my neck.

"Just be careful," she whispers. "I know I can't stop you from going, but…you know Hans isn't going to fight by the rules. I'm not too keen with the idea of you getting hurt from defending me."

"I'll do my best," I promise her seriously before cracking a grin. "The asshole won't know what hit him."

Elsa just chuckles and we spend the rest of the ride nestled in each other's arms.

XxXxX

**9:50pm**. I emerge from the subway station a block away from the Dakota. My hands are buried in my hoodie pocket, already bandaged up in preparation for the fight, and I shuffle quickly towards the massive building. Turning down 72nd, I see an imposing looking figure lurking in front of the building, and figure it's one of Hans' goons. Sure enough, when I come to a stop in front of him, he quickly gives me the once-over before inclining his head over his shoulder.

I'm led down a dark alleyway, keeping my hands balled into fists the entire time, should this turn into some kind of trap where I'm to be ambushed.

That doesn't happen however, and instead the alley indeed leads to an empty lot, just like Hans had said. There in the center, surrounded by three more guys, is King Sideburns himself. Cocky bastard.

"Anna!" he exclaims jovially. "So glad you could make it!"

"Cut the crap, Hans," I spit, not in the mood for games, just to kick ass and leave. "I'm just here to pummel you."

"Confident, aren't we?" he says in that infuriating smug tone. "Hope your words hold up in the heat of things."

"Oh, they will, believe me."

Hans just looks to all of his "boys" with a face that sends them all into a raucous guffaw. I merely roll my eyes and take the time to observe my surroundings. The lot is lit by only one old street lamp, the only other light provided coming from the windows of the Dakota and the moon in the sky. I look up to the windows and feel a bit better about the situation. Should things take a turn for the worse, someone is sure to hear me should I need them to.

"Anyway," Hans finally speaks up after he and his group calm down. "I believe we've kept our guest waiting."

"Indeed you have."

He smirks. "Shall we set some rules?"

"No hits below the belt," I start. "Three rounds; once you're down for ten seconds, you lose the round. Simple enough?"

A hardened glint lights up his eyes as he nods and cracks his knuckles.

"So then," he drawls, "are you ready to rumble?"

I can only roll my eyes.


	32. Chapter 31: Keep on Fighting

**So much for getting this finished before the New Year, huh? -_- Like I said, I can dream, can't I? Anyways, only two (maybe three) chapters to go! **

**That being said, I have been considering trying to get Sucker Punch published as an original work once it's finished. Obviously, all the names will change, but I already have some picked out for a majority of the characters. Still, how many of you would be anxious to see this as a real book? New characters, new look, same premise? It's been my dream to get a book published since I was nine and I wrote my first short story. At only five pages back then, Sucker Punch will definitely have broken 300 by the time it's finished, and I really feel like this is my best work to date. Can I count on you all, my loyal and amazing fans, to back me in this endeavor? I'd like to know what you all think.**

**In the meantime, our tale with Elsa and Anna isn't quite finished, so enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-One: Keep on Fighting<strong>

Let it be known that agreeing to this fight against Hans was not one of my smarter ideas. Yeah, I might have come off as cocky and sure of myself when I had accepted his proposal in the first place, but I really did have the gut feeling that there was going to be some dirt thrown.

Of course, the minute two of Hans' goons jump me in the middle of what had been a pretty legit fight between Sideburns and me up to this point, I knew all those rules were thrown out the window. This was now a brawl.

"See where loyalty gets you?" Hans hisses after delivering another swift punch to my stomach, me being unable to do anything since his buddies are now holding my arms behind my back to allow Hans all the access he could ever dream of. "See where _respect_ gets you?"

"That's what this is all about?" I grit out past the blood and swollen lip. "Elsa's failed loyalty to you and her not respecting you anymore? You _treated her like a prize to be won_! She _was_ loyal to you! As much as any best friend would ever be, yet _you_ took that and turned it in to some twisted idea of ownership in that demented brain of yours!"

A punch across the face is his retaliation, and honestly, I'm so riled up I don't even feel the hit.

I refuse to think that the reason I don't feel anything anymore is instead because I'm so wrecked I've become numb to any more pain.

"She _embarrassed_ me in front of the entire school!" Hans barks angrily, though the fact that he's saying all of this through a black eye, a busted lip of his own, and gripping his shoulder after every physical expel causes a smile to work its way across my face. Apparently I had landed some pretty good hits of my own before this fight went south.

"It was _high school_!" I shout back. "Everyone gets horribly embarrassed at some point during those four years! Learn to live with it, Hans; let it go!"

"She embarrassed me in front of the _world_ when she beat me out of the Olympic team!" is his next futile attempt to sound like he's truly the one in the right here.

"You only started boxing because she did!" I refute. "Don't try and act like boxing was anything more to you than a way to get back at Elsa! Boxing is something she was passionate about, and still is to this day, despite all the shit that she's had to suffer recently. Do you even have _any_ idea what happened? Did you even care to listen to her reveal on TV? Or were you too busy absorbing any and all rumors you could get your hands on?"

Before he can get any other kind of retort in, I bend over and yell, "_She lost her fucking parents!_"

Immediately, I feel the grip of Hans' friends slacken, and I break free with a push before sending up both of my fists to conveniently bash both of their skulls in. Getting to shaky feet, I loom over Hans, and perhaps if I weren't so emotional, I'd notice his slack jawed look and twitch of fear and guilt on his face.

"But no, you wouldn't have even cared about that, would you?" I continue my tirade, my injuries fusing with my adrenaline and keeping me upright and going. "Hell, you're probably _glad_, right? Now you finally have something Elsa doesn't!"

That spurt of adrenaline wasn't to last, however, and I'm sinking to my knees before I know it, tears from my injuries and still-heartache for Elsa's losses breaking free and streaking down my dirtied cheeks. If the situation were any different, I'd probably be critically embarrassed that I was crying in the middle of an abandoned lot, in the middle of the night, and in front of some jackass, but I couldn't care less in this moment.

I am surprised, however, when I notice Hans come to his knees as well, a heavy hand being placed on my shoulder.

"I… I didn't know about her parents," Hans utters. "You're right; I didn't watch her on TV that night, and I only knew about her arm because I overheard someone the day after discussing it. I had _no idea_ her parents had died. You have to believe that, despite the fallout Elsa and I had, I had always cherished the relationship I had struck up with her parents in that time. They treated me like their own son, and that was a hell of a lot more than I ever got from _my _parents."

I simply scoff. "If you're looking for sympathy, you're not going to get any from me. I'm on Elsa's side here one hundred percent, and the fact that you didn't even bother to get your facts from anything other than rumors shows how bitter of a human being you really are. It's going to take a lot more than that before Elsa forgives you."

Hans removes his hand, and I look up hesitantly. I can see regret shining in his one good eye, yet I'm still cautioned against thinking it's real. It could all still be some kind of farce.

"Well, what do I have to do to get _you_ to forgive me?" he asks.

I break out into a mocking guffaw at that. "You're kinda way past the point now," I tell him, gesturing to my entire beaten body. "_But_," I add once I see Hans make to stand up, "talking to Elsa—_listening_ to Elsa—probably wouldn't be a bad start."

Hans smiles then and even though I'm still not entirely convinced, I give the boy some slack, hoping that maybe this time he's taking everything to heart, and that he could indeed bring himself out of this hole he's been digging himself for the past few years.

It surprises me even more when Hans asks for Elsa's number, deciding to start right then and there to start amending things by calling her and telling her I was injured, where we were, and that it was all his fault. When Elsa comes to retrieve me half an hour later, a bit of pride wells within me when I see Hans look small and nervous in front of Elsa's glare. Still, when Hans offers a simple meek apology, Elsa's face softens, as if she knows the apology is for more than just beating me up. Giving him a tight nod, she all but scoops me up and we leave Hans in the lot, surrounded by his still-unconscious friends.

"I can't believe you did that," Elsa mumbles as she hands me a new ice pack once we're back at her place.

"What, got beaten to a pulp or put Hans on the right path to hopeful forgiveness?" I smartly say back, sighing in content as the coolness of the ice is once again on my swollen eye.

Elsa rolls her eyes and grins. "I was mainly talking about going to the fight in the first place, but yes, I can't believe Hans is ever going try and work for forgiveness either."

"Well, he seemed pretty legit there at the end; though I don't know if that _means_ anything, considering his apparent track record."

Elsa begins stroking my hair, my head having been in her lap this entire time, and she smiles fondly down at me. "Still, thank you for whatever you said, Anna. With any luck, neither of us will ever hear from him again. I hate to say it, but I doubt he'll try to get back in my good books anymore than he did tonight."

I shrug, moving the ice to my lip. "That works for me."

Leaning down to kiss my forehead, Elsa whispers, "I love you, my valiant knight."

"And I love you, my beautiful princess."

XxXxX

The following day, despite Elsa's adamant insistence of waiting until I looked more…well…_presentable_, we found ourselves back at Mt Sinai. Tadashi had called over the weekend saying that Hiro had finished a prototype of Elsa's prosthetic, and that she could come in for a fitting and "test run" whenever she wanted. Since Elsa needed to go in for therapy today anyway, we decided to kill two birds with one stone.

Therapy went well. Elsa came out happier than usual upon learning that Reilly was also starting to get fit for her own prosthetic; reassuring Elsa that there was no special treatment going on in her case. Upon learning that, her spirits for the study in general seemed to lift substantially.

Elsa had told Tadashi earlier to invite Milo when she would first be fitted with a prosthetic, meaning he was here today. I could see the nerves abound in Elsa's eyes as Tadashi walked in with the model, Hiro strutting in proudly behind. Milo was sitting away in a corner of the room, trusty notepad at the ready, while I sat beside Elsa as always, my hand interlocked with her left.

"Now, today is only a test," Tadashi tells her once more, but also in order to fill Milo in. "It's not supposed to fit perfectly, but we will still be able to gather how much damage has been done to the nerves. Collecting this data still in the test stage should ensure that when the final is ready, we'll be ready to jump right in to physical therapy and not have to worry about the little things like how well it fits."

"Right," Elsa mumbles, looking at the model with apprehension.

I lean in quickly to kiss her temple. "It'll be okay, Elsa," I whisper. "Just do your best."

Nodding, she takes in a deep breath before telling Tadashi she's ready, outstretching her right arm for further emphasis. Elsa had been working on not wearing her old prosthetic anymore as a challenge from Jane, so she was already bare and ready. Tadashi then handed the model off to Hiro, who began to explain the new one.

"Like I'm sure you read on our site," he began, "all prosthetics made here are done so using only carbon fiber and a lightweight metallic alloy. When we scanned your left arm the other day, it allowed us to make this prosthetic bearing the weight of your other arm in mind, so this shouldn't end up being too heavy or too light and throwing off any basic functions once it's fitted.

"Hopefully, if all goes well and once you complete physical therapy, you will come to see this not as a robotic, but as real as your other arm. It should feel like muscle, bone and skin, and react like it too. Still, this is a study, so if need be, some tweaks and fixes are expected to be made. But will we do our best, Elsa, to make this as real for you as we can, okay?"

Elsa nods again, before Hiro flashes her a smile and slides the new robotic on. Elsa stares at it transfixed, and I can barely keep myself from reaching out and touching it. It just looks so…_wow_. I hold myself back, however, solely on the dream that the first time I take Elsa's _right hand_, it will be as close to taking a real hand as we can get. Not a moment before, should I spoil what I believe should be nothing but an extremely profound moment.

"Am I…supposed to be feeling anything?" Elsa asks unsurely once its situated.

"You're not supposed to feel like you can move it yet, if that's what you're asking," Tadashi says. "It's not calibrated to your nerve receptors, so even if there was no damage, you still wouldn't be able to move it. We're just testing the fit now; the rest will come here in a bit."

"How does it feel, Elsa?" I ask then. "Is it too tight?"

"No," Elsa replies, still somewhat in a daze as she moves her arm—now a _full arm with a hand_, screw the robotics aspect of it—every which way, as if all this is a dream and it will vanish in a puff of smoke any second.

I can only imagine what she must be experiencing.

"Too loose?" Hiro follows up. "We want it to be as perfect as possible. If it's too loose at all, it may not work properly once hooked up. It's supposed to be nice and snug."

Elsa admits then that it may feel just a little loose, but in minutes Hiro has adjusted it until Elsa tells him it feels just right. He and Tadashi then ask what she thinks of it, to make sure she's happy with what they have so far, and telling her to keep in mind they can change anything easily while it's still in this stage.

Elsa takes her time then, absorbing every little detail of it, running her fingers all up and down the smooth metal, stretching her right arm out and measuring the length of it with her left—they match each other perfectly—and tracing the small grooves of the palm. I have to admit, for a robotic part, it looks as human as it possibly could. It even sits so it gives her a semblance of having an elbow back.

I cast a glance over at Milo and grin when I see him staring at Elsa with so much pride. I also can't imagine what he must be thinking, having been working with Elsa from the beginning and remembering the struggles of even getting her to agree to _any_ kind of prosthetic. Yet, here she is.

"I like it…" Elsa mumbles with a big smile. "It…looks nothing like what I was expecting. But…in a good—no, amazing—way."

Hiro beams at this and Tadashi ruffles his brother's hair with a chuckle.

"We're flattered, Elsa," Tadashi says. "Truly."

Hiro just nods, probably still too elated to speak properly, before he comes back forward to remove it.

"I promise you'll like the final product even more," he says with conviction upon getting his voice back.

Elsa's smile just turns into a grin before she lets him take it off. He hands it to Tadashi, who then walks over to a desk where several computers are set up. I had been wondering why we were in a different room today, it being much larger than your standard examination room. Tadashi and Hiro place the arm on a stand so it's sitting upright, the fingers all splayed outwards like it's giving the air a high five.

"Now, to start testing your nerve functioning," Tadashi speaks up, Hiro now busy attaching what look like small stickers all over the prosthetic. "Elsa, if you could please come sit here."

Elsa obeys, moving from the small table to a chair seated a small distance away from the computers. I roll the stool I had been sitting on this entire time behind her.

"In order to test this, we'll need to attach some sensors to end of your arm," Tadashi explains as he kneels before her, holding out similar looking stickers to the prosthetic. "These will communicate with the receptors Hiro has placed on the arm. Once we have everything set up, just try and imagine your arm and hand are there, okay? It may be difficult at first, since you've become used to them not being there, but you'll get the hang of it. We don't expect you to get it right away. Especially since it's just a prototype."

Elsa nods once more, her and I watching with interest as Tadashi places a cluster of sensors at the end of her right arm. He walks back over to Hiro behind the computers and we can hear them tapping away on the two keyboards behind the four monitors. I look to Elsa and grin, my stomach flipping pleasantly when she immediately smiles back, no trace of fear present anywhere on her face.

"Exciting, isn't it?" I ask playfully.

"It really is," she responds, her smile only widening. Squeezing my hand she has barely yet to let go of, she adds, "Thank you for convincing me this was the right thing to do."

"Hey, you wanted it," I tell her, refusing to take credit for any of this. "You just needed…"

"A push?" she finishes with a giggle. "I think we've already established I needed several pushes, Anna. I just needed the right person to do so."

Kissing her quickly once more, I tell her, "And I'm thankful I was that person."

"I am too."

"Ready?" Tadashi asks then, and I look over to see him and Hiro smiling somewhat cheekily at our affectionate scene.

Blushing, Elsa nods.

"Okay. Elsa, can you try moving the arm at all?" Tadashi prods. "Just try and focus on the arm right now; we'll get to the hand later."

Elsa nods her head again before she's basically glaring at where her right arm should be, trying to will it to move from across the room. I grasp her left hand tighter as I keep a trained eye on the prosthetic, watching for any little movement.

"It… It's weird," she finally pipes up. "Am I doing _anything_?"

"You are," Tadashi replies. "It may not feel like it, but the receptors are responding."

"How much?" Elsa asks.

Tadashi just smiles sympathetically and shakes his head. "Enough, Elsa."

"What about wiggling your fingers?" Hiro questions next.

Elsa's back to staring in front of her, and in a few seconds I hear her start to breathe a bit heavier, her body becoming tense.

"Anything?" she asks.

I see Tadashi and Hiro exchange a remorseful look with the other and my heart sinks. That can't bode well. They see me looking—Elsa still conveniently concentrating and not paying attention to us—and give me a shake of the head.

My heart shatters.

_What does that mean?_ I mouth over to them. I see Tadashi sigh heavily before he mouths back that he'll tell me after.

"There's a small flutter, Elsa," Hiro finally answers her, and I may not know if that's the truth or he's just trying to keep her morale up, but I know it's not as good as what everyone had been hoping for.

"What about now?" Elsa inquires, now with sweat beading on her forehead.

I'm immediately kneeling before her to get her to look at me.

"Els, hey," I whisper softly. "It's okay; you did great. Remember, we weren't expecting any great lengths to be taken today, right? You did great, baby."

"Yeah?" she breathes, a small smile flickering on her lips.

I'm trying my damnedest to hold back tears because _damn it, something's wrong_, but manage a comforting smile anyway.

"Yeah," I echo. "Awesome."

"She's right," Tadashi agrees, coming up behind us. "Why don't we call it quits for the day? Hiro and I have enough to go on to make the real thing now, and we have some good readings to give Callaghan for when you start physical therapy."

"Okay," Elsa sighs.

Once all the sensors are removed, Milo asks to speak with Elsa before we leave, giving me ample time to confront Tadashi and Hiro about what really happened back there. Elsa looks over her shoulder at me as Milo leads her away, but I just nod for her go on ahead.

"I'll catch up," I tell her.

Once she disappears, I turn to the brothers who are looking very meek, not doing much in hopes to reassure me of anything.

"So?" I prod. "What happened?"

"The arm responded well," Tadashi speaks first. "Exceptionally, even. We didn't see any visible results, obviously, but that's most likely because the model is just a prototype. Once we have the real deal before us, if Elsa does what she did today, it would've moved."

"But the hand?"

"There was some response; that wasn't a lie," Tadashi explains. "It just… It was only a flicker."

"But couldn't that also be because it was just the prototype?" I ask, yet having a good idea what the answer is going to be.

"Even so, the prosthetic should have been receiving a signal of at least six," Hiro discloses.

"What was the reading instead?" I can't help but ask, my stomach knotting up.

Another glance between the brothers.

"Two," they answer in unison.


	33. Chapter 32: Giving One Final Push

**Holy heck in a hand basket, guys! This is the **_**second to last chapter**_**! I can't even adequately put into words how incredible this journey has been, but I suppose I'll save all that for next time, huh? ;)**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Two: Giving One Final Push<strong>

The next month was pretty rough. Tadashi, Hiro and I never brought up Elsa's exact reading from that day, but it quickly became obvious to her that she was not doing as well as had been expected. This, of course, led her to fall into a mild depression, forcing her to believe that this was all for naught, and that she would never be "normal" again after have been led to believe she really could.

Many nights the two of us would be curled up in bed together, me spooning her, tracing circles on her stomach, threading my fingers through her hair, and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She always seemed to wake up a bit happier after those nights, no matter how quickly that high retreated. These nights were usually preceded by a day at the hospital, Elsa doing her damnedest to make even the slightest twitch. She always broke a sweat, yet not until just last week had she managed any movement. Still, each time, we'd go for ice cream afterwards, sometimes throwing in a walk through Central Park, weather permitting (it was nearing March more and more with each day), before cuddling up in front of one of our TVs and binge watching something on Netflix before beginning our cuddle session.

Then, we were finally granted a miracle (no matter how small) a few days ago. When trying to wiggle her fingers for what had to be the hundredth time with no results, all five fingers flickered with movement for what had to be only a millisecond. Still, that movement was recorded in the computers; that movement was real. While Elsa still refuses to take that a victory, Tadashi, Hiro and I are beyond ecstatic.

"You ready, Els?" I ask, knocking on the bathroom door. Today's another trial day, but unlike a few times prior, my hopes are elevated for the first time in a while.

I swear I hear Elsa grumble something along the lines of "what's the point," before she opens the door with a huff, instead choosing to mumble out a, "Yeah…"

Planting a quick kiss on her forehead, I tilt her chin up so she's looking at me. "Hey," I tell her, flashing another of my cheesy trademark grins, "chin up, buttercup."

That gets her to snort a laugh, the edges of her mouths twitching upwards. "Really?"

I shrug. "Did it work?"

She just rolls her eyes at me before brushing by. "Maybe."

"I'll take that as a yes," I quip before trailing after her with a smile.

We're at the hospital not forty-five minutes later and back in the trial lab that is quickly becoming a second home to us. Tadashi and Hiro take their place behind the computer monitors, Elsa and I several feet away in a chair and stool respectively before the four of us make eye contact.

"Okay, Elsa," Tadashi speaks first, "just try and do what you did last time. I know it doesn't seem like it, but you did get all five fingers to move. It should only get easier from here, no matter how marginally it may seem."

Elsa silently nods, looking back at the sensors covering the stump of her right arm before traveling the distance to where the arm actually sits, hooked up to the computers the brothers monitor.

"Okay," she whispers.

I grasp her left hand like I always do, hoping against hope that I can somehow let my own strength flow through her and get the damned thing to move. Sure, it may be a childish thing to believe, but Elsa and I are at the point now where we're grasping at straws, so I'll believe every little foolish thing out there, thank you very little.

I also almost whisper "practice makes perfect" to her, but I know she's heard enough of that phrase from the three of us to last a lifetime, so I wisely remain silent. Tadashi had explained in the beginning that learning how to control a prosthetic such as this (or even a human transplant, really) is like a muscle—the more you practice with it, the easier it is to use. It's why babies tend to flail their limbs every which way haphazardly; it's why the elderly have so much trouble. That muscle is a completely new concept as an infant and must be controlled, yet by the time we're a senior citizen, that muscle has grown weak from a lifetime of use. The good thing about robotics—or so Hiro says—is that the prosthetic should never grow old. Once Elsa learns control of it, it will remain just as strong until her dying day.

Still, the process of _obtaining_ that control is most likely the most difficult hurdle to get over; forget the dysphoria later on where one arm is much stronger than the other.

I'm pulled from my somewhat cryptic thoughts when Hiro cries out, "Wait!"

Elsa and I immediately snap our attention to him as he taps away madly at the keyboard.

"Elsa," he says, looking back to us, "can you do what you just did?"

"I… I don't really know what I just did. I'm just trying anything at this point," she replies.

Tadashi then takes a look at Hiro's screen before saying, "It looks like you were trying to move the pinkie. Can you just focus on that finger again? The computer recorded more movement."

Elsa nods, shooting me a quick glance. I flash her another smile, squeezing her hand tighter.

"You got this," I whisper.

Smiling herself, her eyebrows furrow, the muscles in her upper right arm straining…

Then, it happens.

"Elsa! Elsa, _look_!"

My elated cry has her looking quickly to the hand.

The hand that is now flexing its pinkie with ease.

A grin unlike any I've ever seen lights up Elsa's face then, and I can't hold myself back from kissing her temple feverishly.

"It's moving!" I exclaim. "It's moving!"

Elsa lets out a wet laugh, and it's only then I notice the tears brimming in her eyes as she continues to be enraptured with the smallest finger moving wildly from across the room.

Things only got easier from there.

That Saturday, Elsa and I are jostled from a relaxing breakfast at my place by a knock at my door. Sending each other confused glances, I make to answer the door, looking at my phone briefly to see if I missed a text from Kristoff saying he was coming over—I haven't seen the guy that much lately, I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if that had been the case.

So, I'm incredibly shocked when it's not Kristoff standing there, but my parents.

"Surprise!" they cry in your typical, clichéd fashion.

Still, I can't stop myself from breaking into laughter as a grin splits my face.

"What in the world are you guys doing here?" I ask, feeling Elsa approach hesitantly from behind me.

"We thought we'd just fly up to surprise you!" my mother exclaims, pulling me in to her patented crushing hug. "We wanted to see how you and Elsa were doing!"

"Not to mention your birthday is coming up," my father adds. "I have a business trip I can't get out of the actual week of, so I thought we'd make do by celebrating a little early."

I invite them inside, and both of them give Elsa a hug as well before we're all situated around the little island in my kitchen that substitutes as the dinner table. I offer to make something for my parents, but they insist they ate on their layover.

Of course, one of the first things my mother wants to know about is the trial.

"So, Elsa, how's the trial going?"

"Pretty good now, honestly," she responds politely. "It was a bit of a rough start but-."

"She got her pinkie to move the other day!" I interrupt before looking to my girlfriend sheepishly.

She just shakes her head with a sigh and a smile. "Yes, that."

"That's great!" my father says proudly.

"We haven't tried actually putting it into place on my arm yet," Elsa continues. "Tadashi and Hiro want to make sure it's functioning like it should be before actually doing the next step. Once I seem to have the hang of controlling its basic functions, I'll finally get to wear it, and then we'll work on its precision. Like, fine motor skills."

"Still, she's come a long way," I state with pride, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"Yeah…" she mumbles, becoming so modest I almost squeal from how cute she is.

When Elsa and I finish our breakfast, we take my parents on another walk through Central Park, now that it's nicer outside than when they were here for Christmas. We end up having lunch at the Loeb Boathouse, perhaps the most famous restaurant in or around the park, as a treat from my parents. We celebrate Elsa's success in the trial thus far, before she gets all of our attention.

"I… I want you all to come to one of my therapy sessions," she tells them. "You all…helped me get where I am today, so I want to thank you by showing you what's come from it."

"We'd be happy to come support you, Elsa," dad replies since my mother's about to start crying dramatically.

"Thank you," Elsa says with a smile. "However, maybe not the next one? I want to show you all something more impressive than a moving pinkie."

"We'll come whenever you want us," dad tells her. "Although please don't think anything is too small to show us."

Elsa's smile grows at his words. "Right."

So, our next session on Monday is just Elsa and me which gives my parents—or, my mom, really—time to shop around the city. After affirming that she can now move her pinkie with ease, Elsa moves on to her ring finger. We stay extra long that day, but by the time we're done nearly four hours later, Elsa has moved all five fingers individually and only fell short barely when trying to make a fist. Still, we're all on cloud nine.

My parents accompany us that Wednesday, and I'm beginning to get the feeling Elsa has something planned when she's actually the one to lead us through the hospital and into the lab, a smug smile lighting up her face the entire time, her left hand squeezing mine gently all the while, as if trying to convey some secret message I'm not picking up on.

We introduce my parents to Hiro and Tadashi, the four of them sharing their praise of Elsa while we get situated.

"So, you seem incredibly happy today," I tell her as I help her place the sensors. "Care to explain why?"

There's a brief glimmer in her eyes before she retorts, "No, but I'll show you."

My eyebrows almost disappear into my hairline. Never in this entire trial thus far have I heard Elsa speak with such confidence. Grinning slyly, I lean in to whisper in her ear, "You have no idea how much you're turning me on right now."

Elsa's still blushing by the time we're all ready.

She runs through moving all her fingers individually as a warm up and also to show my parents. My mother is almost in tears and my dad is just amusedly comforting her, yet his eyes never leave the prosthetic. Hiro and Tadashi are again grinning at each other behind their computers, and I'm just standing next to Elsa waiting for whatever has her so cocky—not that it's a bad thing!

Although, Tadashi also seems to pick up on Elsa's change in demeanor as he cuts in once each finger has been flexed thoroughly, the readings recorded and all very strong. Elsa started out at a two; today, she's at an eight.

"Before we move on," Tadashi says, "Elsa, is it okay if I bring in Dr Callaghan and Tarzan? I'm sure they'd love to see your progress. Plus, Hiro and I should've been updating Dr Callaghan throughout this, but we've been waiting for the right moment, and I think this is it."

I glance to Elsa to see her nod without hesitation, and my curiosity only increases tenfold.

What the hell is this girl planning?

Tarzan and Callaghan enter the lab not five minutes later, congregating behind the brothers. Tarzan's grinning like a baboon and Callaghan looks just as smug as Elsa. Elsa runs through all the fingers one more time for the two newcomers before she finally—_finally_!—alludes to what basically has her on a high.

"Anna?"

She squeezes my hand once more and looks at me with love and…fuck, are those _tears_?! What is going _on_, Elsa?

"Y-Yeah?" I inherently squeak, my throat suddenly becoming dry.

"Can you go stand by my hand?"

I barely register the fact that this is the first time Elsa's used the possessive when referring to her hand; instead my heart is beating a mile a minute because _fuck, this is the first time she hasn't wanted me at her side_.

"O-Okay?" I stutter again, once I'm on the other side of the room. I glance to Hiro and Tadashi who look just as piqued.

"Now, can you take my hand?" she asks.

I start to catch on and tears immediately begin to burn behind my eyelids.

"E-Elsa…"

When she only smiles and nods, tears of her own forming, I waste no time in grasping the robotic—no, _her hand_—before me. I look back to her and we exchange such an intense look, I feel like we should be parting before a battle, not in a silent laboratory.

Then, I feel each finger begin to move downwards. I can't look away as her hand—Elsa's _right hand_—slowly encloses around mine. Blinking rapidly, I try to clear my eyes of their tears because _fuck, is this really happening_? Is this really the first time Elsa's been able to hold something—_someone_—with her right hand since a year and a half ago?

My mother and I both choke back a sob once Elsa's fully grasping my hand from across the room, and a tear breaks free when I don't even feel the cool metal, but instead Elsa's warmth; like she's able to bring life to this prosthetic by not only moving it, but filling it with her life blood as well. I grasp on, squeezing back, because, damn it, I don't care if she can't feel it, I believe she can.

"Elsa, you…"

I can't form words. None of us can. Even Dr Callaghan is staring wide-eyed.

"You're holding my hand," I whisper. I feel my knees begin to buckle, and my other hand shoots up to hold it too, if only to keep me from falling to the ground in an emotional heap. "You're holding my hand…"

"I'm holding your hand, Anna," she whispers back.

Sliding out of her grasp gently, I cross the room in three giant steps before collapsing into her lap, legs straddling hers before I'm kissing her passionately on the lips.

"You did it," I murmur against her. "Holy shit, Elsa, you did it!"

Elsa can only nod as our lips continue to move against one another. We can taste each other's tears and I've never felt a kiss of such passion. My arms settle around her neck, and her left hand threads through my hair as she pushes me even closer.

"I can't wait until I can hold you," she utters, voice breaking, pulling away only briefly to show me another smug smile, never mind the tears cascading down her face.

Chuckling wetly, I kiss her forehead, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

"I wanted to surprise you," she tells me shyly.

"Well, you succeeded incredibly."

We kiss one final time before resting our foreheads against each other, twin smiles lighting up our faces, and hearts beating as one.

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><p><strong>Stay tuned, guys! You do <strong>_**not**_** want to miss what happens next in the conclusion to Sucker Punch! **

**Please review!**


	34. Chapter 33: And That's the Match

**Holy shit, guys, it's finally here. The last chapter of Sucker Punch! Got a long author note this time, but I'm putting it here so you can truly just bask in the final chapter and not have me cut in at the end. **

**So, many people to thank here. First and foremost: all of you. Readers since the beginning, new readers now that it's finished, guests, users, lurkers, everyone. The fact that I knew someone was reading this and enjoying every chapter really gave me the incentive to write, and the fact that none of you begged and pleaded or got on my case when updates took a while means even more. I know I've mentioned before how a bunch of us authors get crap for when we aren't updating constantly, yet now I can proudly say even in my longest story to date, which took nearly two years to complete, I have never one been pestered by these annoying "fans." So, thank you all, for truly understanding the life of a writer and not giving me any grief.**

**Next, a special thanks to jungie14295 for **_**three**_** pieces of fan art for this story. Sucker Punch marks the first story of mine to have ever received fan art, and the fact that one artist spent enough time to make not one, not two, but **_**three**_** pieces of art for this fic is truly flattering. Seriously, you rock. (And also a big thanks to any and all of you that have made art for this fic. Don't think any of it goes un-appreciated!) **

**Last, a big thanks and shout out to NicPie and the-effin-mitchell. You guys have been around since the beginning and truly been considered a friend to me on this wild journey. You've let me bounce ideas off you, you've let me gripe about my lack of updates, and you've helped shape this story to what it is today. If I could, I'd hunt you guys down and give you a big ol' hug; so thank you.**

**Last thing before I release you all to read: many of you have been asking about a possible sequel. Let me just say this: it is not completely outside the realm of possibility. **_**However**_**! It will not come to fruition any time soon. Like I mentioned before, I would like to get this story published as an original work, and that will take time. Also, should it happen, I'd like to see how successful this fic will be before putting more thought into a sequel. I have an idea for one, but I have other fics here I want to work on first.**

**That being said, this will be my last story in the Frozen fandom for a while. Lately I've been getting into RWBY, and while I've written many oneshots there, I want to try my hand at some multi-chaptered fics. I shall still be reading Frozen fics as I still live and breathe Elsanna, but I will be taking a hiatus myself. So, if you want to stick with me and are a RWBY fan (particularly White Rose), I look forward to seeing you all there!**

**So, without further ado, please enjoy the **_**final chapter**_** of Sucker Punch! You all are awesome!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Three: And That's The Match<strong>

I can't even begin to describe the way Olaf's face lights up when he first sees Elsa's new arm. The fact that he was so enamored with it strictly from only having seen it from a video I had on my phone amuses me to no end, even if I had found myself slightly baffled as well. If this kid doesn't end up doing something with robotics later down the line, I'll know the universe really got off balance somewhere.

"Can I watch it again?!" he asks for literally the seventh time.

Elsa and I just look at each other and giggle before indulging the child and playing it once more, his eyes becoming the size of dinner plates just as they had the last six times. Luckily the rest of the kids were busy entertaining themselves during playtime, and while several others had watched the first airing of "Elsa's New Arm Spectacular," all but Olaf had grown bored halfway through the second playback.

Not that I necessarily can blame them.

Don't get me wrong; I'm probably the second happiest person in the world about the success shown in the video—after all, it's essentially my mom recording Elsa being able to grasp my hand for only the second time before we all dissolve in another fresh wave of tears—but even I'm getting a bit tired.

"That's so _cool_!" Olaf squeals once more as the video finishes its run-through again. I quickly act to put my phone away before he can make seven times eight. "Why isn't it actually on you though?"

"Well, they wanted to make sure it actually worked before going through all the work to give it to me," Elsa explains. "Next time I go in, I get to finally wear it."

"Can you record that too?!"

Chuckling, I ruffle the kid's hair. "Slow down there, kiddo," I tell him. "You'll still be the first to see the real thing. Until then, let's keep the rest a surprise, okay?"

Olaf nods vigorously, his eyes lighting up again with a different kind of mirth. "I love surprises!" Looking back to Elsa, though, he asks another question: "So will the robot part always be showing? 'Cause I think that's awesome, and I'd show it off all the time!"

"Well, they do have a big glove I can cover it with," Elsa does her best to explain. "They can get one to match my skin color and everything. If you didn't know any better, no one would be able to tell I'm any different than them while wearing it."

"But different is cool!" Olaf exclaims. "My mom always says not to be afraid to be different!"

"Your mom is not wrong, Olaf," Elsa assures him with a smile, "though I've had enough of being different for a while."

Smiling sympathetically, I grab her hand under the table. Glancing to me, her smile warms before she squeezes back.

Damn being around kids so I can't kiss her in this moment.

"Will you come back by and show us it once you get it? Please?"

"Olaf," I admonish gently.

His smile falters as he looks at the table guiltily, but Elsa just leans across the table closer to him.

"Once I get it and assure it's working as it should be, I'll come back," she says.

Had we not already made the kid's year, I'm sure hearing that just did it.

XxXxX

It's nearly another month before the arm is actually ready to be put on Elsa, yet it comes in a flash. Everyone who had played a part in Elsa's trial thus far shows up for the big day, yet it doesn't seem to unnerve Elsa in the slightest; not that it should after that big display weeks ago. Nevertheless, it's still somewhat startling to be reminded how many people were involved in getting Elsa to where she is today. Tarzan and Jane stand by Dr Porter on one end of the computer desk in our usual lab, Dr Callaghan and Tadashi on the other. Hiro stands before Elsa, the final prosthetic held proudly in his grasp, finally ready to meet its other half.

Then, of course, there's me; at Elsa's side as always.

Right where I belong.

"Big moment, huh, Elsa?" Hiro asks, shifting the arm slightly in his grasp.

If Elsa's throat is anywhere near as choked up as mine, it's understandable why her eyes are shimmering and she can only manage a nod in answer. Smile widening, Hiro glances to me.

"Would you like Anna to do the honors?"

My heart rate increases dramatically at the question. Me? _Me_ putting Elsa's arm on for the first time? _Me_ giving her what she's worked and fought so hard for? _Me_ giving her back what she so tragically lost?

Fuck yeah, I'll do it; but not without Elsa's consent.

Looking directly in my eyes, Elsa nods, a smile lighting up her face as a most powerful, "Yes," comes from between parted lips.

A shiver quickly travels down my spine before I focus back on this milestone now being handed to me. The arm is, as explained initially by Hiro and Tadashi, very light because of the materials it's made of. If I had any inclination as to how much a human arm weighed on its own, I'm sure this would come pretty damn close, if not right on the money—that's a pretty gruesome thought, huh? Anyway, the arm itself is black, while the hand and fingers are a shiny silver metal.

"Are you going to actually _do_ the honors, Anna, or you going to just continue to ogle it?" Elsa questions, an amused grin on her face.

Blushing as our spectators all chuckle, I dip my head slightly. "Sorry," I mumble. "It's just… I can't get over the fact that this moment is finally here."

"Well, imagine how I feel," Elsa lightly quips next.

My blush darkens ever so slightly. "R-Right."

The new prosthetic if affixed to Elsa's arm in a similar fashion to her old one, the biggest difference being the new sensors that rest within the small cup her stump slides into. Now, all Elsa has to do is think and behave like she has always had her right arm, and her brain will send signals to the sensors, thus moving the arm. If you ask me, it's all pretty amazing.

"Ready?" I ask, having slid her stump into its spot and waiting to fasten her in.

"More than I've ever been for anything," she replies breathily, her eyes alight as she takes in her right arm in its entirety for the first time in forever.

Beaming, I do the three Velcro straps before carefully letting go and stepping away.

Tears immediately line my eyes as I take in Elsa, truly complete; whole once again.

"You look great, babe," I whisper.

She grins back at me before Hiro steps back forward, Tadashi one step behind.

"Well?" Hiro prompts with a smile of his own. "Give it a whirl!"

Releasing a breath, Elsa nods before looking at her arm. Furrowing her eyebrows slightly, she and the rest of us all train our eyes to her hand, waiting for the first movement. I watch with baited breath as her hand curls back into a fist—the tightest fist yet, I notice with a flip of my stomach—before her right thumb slowly rises up. I can't help the strangled sob that escapes as I soak in the classic thumb's up, both us never believing Elsa would ever be able to do again.

The room breaks into applause then, Tadashi and Hiro hugging each other at their latest success, Doctors Porter and Callaghan exchanging a proud look with each other, and Jane and Tarzan sharing a blissful kiss.

Elsa catches me off guard then as she stands and pulls me forward with her right hand and into a powerful hug. A fit of pleasurable shivers course through my entire being then as I feel her right hand grasp at my shirt, keeping me close.

This is it. This is the end of our beginning.

XxXxX

While Elsa had been able to wear the prosthetic for the first time that day, she isn't able to take it home with her for a few more weeks. The final step in the trial is to perfect her fine motor skills, picking objects up, holding a pencil, typing on a keyboard, and the like. We're back at Mt Sinai the day after for her first session of this new kind of therapy, and I'm truly able to relax knowing we have completed the biggest hurdle when Elsa breezes through all the exercises like a champ. Sure, she has a few missteps here and there—and who wouldn't after not using one of their hands entirely for nearly two years?—but she never lets it get to her.

My heart also cannot keep still when she only continues to write my name over and over during any writing exercise. Sure, the penmanship might match Olaf's, but we don't let it get us down, as Hiro and Tadashi assure us it'll only better itself the more she practices.

Typing on a computer was a bit awkward at first, as her timing had slowed considerably due to her movements being more robotic, but again, it would all become more fluid over time. Still, the Hamada brothers are sure to let Elsa know that she is performing at a level far above average, and after the scare weeks ago at her only registering movement at a two, that comes as a big relief for all of us.

The only thing Elsa has yet to be able to do at all is the most difficult of tasks for new prosthetic users: threading a needle. Of course, neither Elsa nor I are big on sewing, yet I know we can't really be done with this whole trial until she's able to do so. Still, Tadashi and Hiro pass her with flying colors and allow her to take the prosthetic home with her finally, with the assurance that she will come back once a week to perfect her fine motor skills even more. She readily agrees, and we leave Mt Sinai that day with our spirits at their peaks, my left hand held tightly in her right.

Of course, we're stopped by little Reilly before we get too far out the doors, yet it's a pleasant surprise as the young girl is on her feet for the first time in her life.

Elsa instantly pulls away from me and runs up to Reilly and her own physical therapist as they slowly make their way down the hall.

"Look at you!" she exclaims.

"Yeah!" Reilly chirps back. "I just started walking yesterday!"

"That's amazing, Reilly," Elsa affirms, beaming down at her.

"Congrats," I add with my own smile, knowing how close she and Elsa had become throughout this ordeal.

While she may not fully be supporting herself yet, the fact that she's able to walk at all, even with the assistance of crutches, is nothing short of a miracle. Reilly's therapist and I allow the two to brag about their new prosthetics for a bit as Elsa takes over helping Reilly down the hallway. The doctor and I look on at our patients with silent pride the entire time.

When we're on the subway home—that word now meaning whichever of our places we end up at—Elsa turns to me with another huge smile.

"Anna," she starts, "your birthday is coming up, right?"

"Yeah?" I reply, a bit confused at where the question came from. My birthday hadn't been mentioned since my parents had been up, and that was weeks ago.

"Will you let me plan the day? We have to celebrate the birthday of my hero, right?"

My cheeks warm as I glance away. "Elsa… Stop that…" I mumble abashedly.

"But it's true!" she exclaims. "You'll never be able to convince me otherwise."

Sighing dramatically, I lean in to kiss her. "You can plan the day," I tell her. "Just…don't go overboard, okay?" I wink. "You should know by now I'm easy to satisfy."

Seeming pleased with the permission, we share another quick kiss before I can see Elsa go deep in thought with how to celebrate and I can't help but be filled with tickling anxiety.

Four days later, on the first weekend in April, my birthday finally arrives. Elsa wakes me up in the morning with breakfast in bed, and I'm already grinning like an idiot at the plate of pancakes placed before me.

Perfect shaped pancakes; not an Africa-shaped one on the plate.

We spend a prolonged hour in bed that morning, feeding each other and painting the other's face in whipped cream before we finally arise to start the day.

However, before we start any celebrations, Elsa wants to make one detour.

"I know you're not scheduled to work today, but we did promise Olaf we'd show him my arm as soon as I got it, right?" she asks. "I know we're a couple days late, but his joy would make for a good birthday present, don't you think?"

Pecking her on the nose, I smile back. "That would be a great gift indeed."

So, we end up at the library not an hour later, all the kids flocking to me in glee at my surprise visit, Elsa trailing in silently behind me, her hands behind her back.

"Miss Anna!" the kids all cry. "What are you doing here? It's your day off!"

"Isn't it your birthday too?"

"Happy Birthday!"

"Miss Elsa's here too!"

Calming them all slightly, I seek out Olaf in the small crowd and grin.

"Olaf," I ask, "you ready for your surprise, bud?"

Once again, his eyes light up and I'm surprised he doesn't squeal out in glee before pushing aside any and all kids in his way.

"She has it?" he asks. "She finally has it?!"

"See for yourself."

Flourishing to Elsa, she takes center stage, kneeling down before him with a grin before slowly revealing her right arm. Olaf squeaks in glee as the other kids 'ooh' and 'ahh' behind him, moving to get a better look.

"Look!"

"That's awesome!"

"Congrats, Miss Elsa!"

"That's so _cool_!" Olaf cries. "Can I touch it?"

Elsa chuckles. "I can do you one better, kiddo. How about a high five?"

He nods so enthusiastically he could pass for a bobble-head as he sticks his hand out eagerly. All eyes are trained on Elsa as she brings her right hand forward to touch Olaf's, just enough speed behind it to make that delightful _smack_.

Needless to say, Elsa has to give _everyone_ a high five then, and we don't get out of there until much later. Still, it was a great sight to see, and truly a great gift.

"So, where are we headed to now?" I ask casually as we stroll down the street hand-in-hand again. I have a feeling we'll be holding hands a lot more excessively here in the near future and my stomach twists pleasantly at the thought.

"Well, you told me to keep it simple, so how about a movie?" she offers. "Then we can go home, get dressed up real nice, and you'll let me treat you to dinner?"

I laugh a bit and roll my eyes, yet truly flattered she's more excited about this day than I am and has put so much thought into it. "You know I'm only turning nineteen, right? Not twenty-one."

"So?" she shrugs with a smile. "My whole world is turning nineteen, and that's something to celebrate."

Nudging her playfully, I mumble, "Stop it you," my blush betraying me.

Of course, we end up not really _watching_ the movie; more like making out in the top row, Elsa not able to keep her hands—gods, I love being able to say that using plurals now—off me as I just laugh and smile so hard my cheeks hurt. Luckily we were in a fairly empty theater.

I'm on cloud nine when we return home, yet I know the night is far from over.

"You gonna tell me where we're going, or is it another surprise?" I ask as I put on the last of my makeup in the bathroom mirror as Elsa changes out in my bedroom.

"A surprise, of course!" I hear her exclaim from the other room. "Seriously, Anna, have you never celebrated your birthday before?"

"Plenty of times, thank you very much," I reply with a grin. "It's just usually the birthday girl gets to choose where to go for dinner."

Elsa comes up behind me and hugs me from behind, nuzzling her face into my neck. My cheeks begin to hurt again from my smile as I take us both in from the mirror.

"Are you seriously complaining?" she mumbles.

"Are you seriously not going to tell me?" I parrot.

"No!" she shouts with a laugh and smack to my shoulder. "Now come on, we have reservations for seven."

When we wind up back outside of BASSO56, I can't contain another grin—who knew it was possible to smile this much in one day?

"Fitting right?" Elsa questions with a sly grin of her own.

Seeing as this is the restaurant we had out first real date in, it honestly couldn't be more fitting.

"You really are something, Elsa."

Kissing my cheek, she whispers, "I try," before taking my hand again as we walk in.

All of this birthday celebration today, I totally forgot to mention Elsa isn't even wearing the sleeve over her arm, letting the robotic limb show with pride. Back when she had first agreed to the trial, the sleeve had been a must as she "refused to walk around looking like the Terminator," if I recall correctly.

We truly have come a long way.

I'm a bit surprised when we aren't led to the same table as before, yet I know I can't hold it against her; she's done so much for me today already, am I really going to mention she didn't go the whole nine yards by reserving the same table? That'd be a pretty ass move on my part.

"I know this day is supposed to be all about me," I bring up after our drinks and appetizer have been ordered, "but I'm so proud of you, Elsa, for coming out in public like this without a second thought."

She cocks her head at me, that adorable confused expression on her face. "What do you mean?"

She doesn't even realize? She really _has_ changed. My stomach clenches.

"You didn't have any qualms about your arm showing," I nod to said appendage. "You've become so carefree about all this. It's amazing."

I finally get a blush out of her today with that as she looks down at her right arm, clenching her hand into a fist before letting it relax.

"You're right," she replies. "I hadn't even thought about it, really."

"Remember when you tried so hard to hide who you were?" I reach for both of her hands from across the table. "Can you believe you've come this far?"

"You're right," she breathes. "It's amazing. But…" she looks to me and smiles. "You've changed too, Anna."

I scoff, yet smile. "Please. How? Going from pushy to _extremely_ pushy?"

She smiles back. "You've grown. And in more ways than just age."

Now it's my turn to look confused.

"When I first met you, you were this wild spitfire. And while you always had the purest intentions at heart, you made them known in a brash way. You wanted to help me, but maybe you hadn't quite absorbed how truly difficult that was for me. Yet, you took a step back, and came back at it with renewed vigor, but you had changed your ways. Perhaps you did so unknowingly, but I was able to pick up on it.

"After our…fight was when I first noticed. You gave me that push still, but you did it with a changed heart. No longer was it so insistent, but rather it was done so with the upmost care. You truly saw things from my perspective, I feel, and you continued to give that push accordingly." Smiling at me briefly once more, she asks, "Be honest with me, when you first moved here, what were your intentions?"

"Well…" I pause to think. "To make a name for myself by boxing and fighting my way to the top."

Her smile flickers wider. "Exactly. You were brawler, and you treated every situation as a fight. Now what are your intentions?"

My heart beats faster as I reply confidently, "To be with you. To be there for you no matter what and for however long."

"And that's the greatest kind of change," she explains. "While boxing's always been in your blood, Anna, it's matured. You came here a brawler, jumping headfirst into everything no matter how rash it made you. Now, you're a fighter. You take time to analyze your situation before you react. While you still don't back down, you do so with heart."

Damn, I think. I never really thought _I_ had been changing alongside Elsa. I had been so focused on her, my evolution kind of just took a backseat, I suppose. Yet, now that I sit here listening to Elsa's words, truly letting all of this sink it, I realize she's right. I was just a kid when I first got to New York. Aside from boxing, I didn't really know who I was. Now, I know I've found who I am, all thanks to being by Elsa's side.

"Wow," I mumble, trying to reorganize my thoughts. "You didn't tell me you had a doctorate in philosophy, Els."

Elsa tries to keep a straight face before she's bursting out in laughter, with me quickly following suit.

Sure, I may have grown, but that doesn't mean my roots don't still reside within me.

XxXxX

Later that night, Elsa and I retire back to her place. After an amazing dinner, we had come back, changed in to comfortable clothes, and curled up on her couch to watch Netflix, a glass of champagne in her hand, and a beer in mine.

"So," Elsa breathes as she plants a trail of kisses down my neck, "you haven't mentioned the fact that I didn't give you anything for your birthday."

I look to her with a raised brow. "Was everything else today not it?"

A shiver runs through me as she licks the shell of my ear. "Maybe. Maybe not."

She tends to my ear and neck some more, leaving me incapable of speech before she speaks again.

"Ask where you present is."

"O-Okay…" I gulp. "W-Where's my present, Elsa?"

Her eyes glimmer in a predatory way as she takes me by the hand. "I'm glad you asked. It's in here."

Pulling me off the couch, she leads me down the hallway and my heart rate picks up drastically with each step that brings us closer to her bedroom. Upon entering, Elsa leaves the room dark, the only lighting being the natural rays of moonlight that filter through her blinds.

Pushing me so I fall gently on her bed, she sensually crawls on top of me.

"This is your present, Anna," she tells me with hooded eyes, lust and love filling her voice

"T-The b-bed?" I try to joke, though my entire body lurches pleasantly as Elsa presses her entire form against mine gently.

She chuckles as she leans down to kiss me, her tongue prodding between my lips momentarily as her right hand trails past my stomach, slipping under the pair of leggings I had changed into.

"No," she whispers huskily, hand now trailing the band of my panties, "me finally being able to love you the right way."

A full body shiver runs back through me then, yet I can't keep the laugh from bubbling out of my throat, nor the classic roll of my eyes.

This girl would never learn.


End file.
